


Darkest Darkness

by VicenteValtieri



Series: A Thousand Lives Unlived [4]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Depression, I'm Sorry, M/M, at least not the stuff i have writtem, not a happy fic, suicidal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2018-12-24 16:12:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 22
Words: 24,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12016359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VicenteValtieri/pseuds/VicenteValtieri
Summary: Plagued by guilt, Optimus Prime begins to act recklessly in battle to protect his soldiers. The consequences to himself are catastrophic. Starscream decides to pull the Prime out of his downwards spiral, but at what cost to himself?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Dream: This will be a one or two-shot. I'm sure of it.
> 
> Reality: This will turn into a work on the scale of a Stephen King novel.

Optimus dodged through the webs of laser fire that covered the battlefield. His men surrounded him, the Decepticons opposite him. Ramjet and his trine came out of nowhere for a strafing run and he returned fire, diving into cover beside Tracks. Together, they returned fire on the Seekers and drove them off. At a nod from the Prime, they dove together towards where Megatron was gloating over his newest weapon.

Tracks broke off to the left as Starscream swung into the fight. The Second in Command had abandoned his futile efforts to talk Megatron out of using the unstable prototype and was now simply running damage control, as was the pattern of late. The tricolor Seeker unleashed a flurry of combined swordplay and martial arts. Optimus noted that he was rather pointedly not using his null rays and determined that the seeker had come to the conclusion that stray shots would overload the new weapon, probably with disastrous results.

He transformers back into robot mode with a leap, meeting Starscream in the air as he swooped low. The two tumbled down a hill, carried by the Seeker's momentum.

“Get off of me!” Starscream shrieked at the Prime, tossing out his hip in a hard strike against Optimus’s grill.

Optimus groaned, releasing him in a flinch of pain.

Starscream leveled one of his straight-bladed katanas at Optimus, keeping him where he was on the ground. In the meantime, Tracks had thrown himself onto the barrel of the weapon and knocked it aside. Megatron bellowed in frustration.

Tracks came flying, with Megatron after him, bellowing in rage. He slammed the Autobot to the ground.

Even Starscream flinched from the spectacle as Megatron stomped on Tracks’s chassis, again and again. Optimus took the Seeker’s distraction as a chance to act, too late as it was. He knocked aside the Seeker’s sword and flung himself into Megatron.

Track's chassis gave way, and Megatron stomped out his spark right before Optimus rammed him, knocking him away.

They battled over the offline frame for a long time. Optimus’s optics were in danger of clouding over with the grief he had to keep at bay, for the remainder of his men. 

Starscream cried a warning as the machine at last overloaded.

It exploded, sending everyone flying. Megatron snarled and ordered them to retreat.

And in the ensuing stillness, Optimus gathered up Tracks and carried him back to the Autobots, where they waited. One more dead frame. One more mech to mourn. One more loss to tally. 

One more failure.

All because he couldn't stop this wretched war. Because he failed time and time again.

In that moment, Optimus decided. He would never lose another man. Not if there was a spark pulse in his worn, weary frame.

They mourned Tracks in the traditional style, melting him down carefully in a mech-sized crucible.

Optimus stood over the melted puddle of metal with dry optics. He had to be strong for his men. That meant he couldn’t even allow himself to weep over Tracks.

Walking among them, afterwards, he offered a shoulder to cry on, an arm to embrace. Every loss brought them down. It rubbed in their status: An endangered species. The last of their kind.

He wouldn’t let them lose another member. Never again.

 

Their next battle was a skirmish over a power plant. Optimus led the charge, breaking the Decepticon defenses. Megatron wasn’t there, it was Starscream leading the raid. The great, silver tyrant must have been injured in the prototype’s explosion. 

Starscream left Prime to Brawl and faced off with Prowl. Optimus wrestled with the bruiser while Starscream and Prowl each held their own against each other.

Optimus turned from Brawl to fire a blast at Starscream and make him back off when he was beginning to gain the advantage on Prowl. That was how he ended up on the ground with an aching processor. After a few moments to moan on the ground, he got to his pedes with effort and slammed back into Brawl.

They won, decisively. The Decepticons made it away with the energon, though. 

Somehow, the ache in his helm seemed to help clear his mind. The pain distracted him from his burden of grief. So, he refused the painkillers Ratchet offered him. It wasn’t that bad anyway.

 

Starscream rubbed the smarting section of his wing where Prime’s shot had found him. The convoy had excellent aim, the Seeker had to admit. He also had to admit a lot of things about the Prime: Brave, honorable, kind… he was the leader Megatron wasn’t.

Starscream sighed and kept cleaning himself off. It had been such a long day.

At least Megatron was still smarting from the explosion and wouldn’t be around to bother him. And he had brought back enough energon for another few weeks and to send some to Cybertron.

It was a success. He reminded himself. 

And if a certain Prime kept his thoughts busy for awhile, that was no one’s business but his own.

 

Optimus broke his concentration on Wildrider to shoot Spinister off of Hot Rod’s back. The young mech shot him a thumbs up before pointing urgently. Optimus turned just in time to catch Mixmaster on his shoulder and push him back. Another day, another battle. 

He fought towards Megatron, standing at the middle like a massive spider at the middle of his web. The architect of terror and death with that sneer on his lipplates. The convoy longed to grab ahold of him and wipe it off. 

He cut through the Decepticons, knocking them aside with sweeps of his arms and elbows. But his forward pace left him open for attack from behind and above.

Starscream strafed him, confused by the Prime’s tactics. It seemed he had abandoned defensive fighting entirely. He was going straight for Megatron, and damn what happened to him getting there. No, that simply wouldn’t do. Someone was going to get in a lucky shot and then Megatron would lose his chief rival and distraction. Not to mention it would be a fine shame to see the Prime fall before he could see Starscream’s inevitable triumph.

Starscream landed in front of the Prime’s charge and began firing at him. Recalling that Megatron had insulted his aim recently, he took a great deal of pleasure in missing just badly enough to force anyone who might come for Optimus to think twice about getting near the Prime and the corona of stinging null-ray fire.

Of course, when Optimus came in range of his fists, Starscream scuttled out of the way with a quick back-step. At any other time, the Prime and Megatron hammering on each other with no clear victor between them would bring joy to Starscream’s spark. But he hated this. Optimus fought with no passion, no finesse. He whaled on Megatron and Megatron whaled right back.

It wasn’t any fun. Eventually, Optimus managed to push Megatron back, but it was after Ironhide began shelling the tyrant from the sideline. At last, Megatron called the retreat and Starscream soared into the air. But he spared the Prime a look back.

Something was terribly wrong.

 

Optimus counted his men as they left the battlefield. All accounted for. Not one missing. He found himself grinning like an idiot in spite of the pain in his sides. 

He retired to his office while Ratchet saw to those who needed it, savoring the silence. Finally, he was doing his job.

His recharge was peaceful that night.

 

Meanwhile, Starscream had retired to his secret hideout. It was hidden inside a decrepit human tenement, but he had hollowed out the inside and built into a space that was almost livable, all with his mastery of robotics, chemistry, and through use of the internet. Megatron never questioned where Starscream fled too to escape the Nemesis so long as Starscream was always back within a klickcycle when called and did his duties- which the Seeker could conduct in his sleep and sometimes from said hideout.

He cuddled down in his berth, optics closed and resting. His frame ached from where Megatron had beat him earlier. The Seeker had gotten off lightly this time. Perhaps Megatron had noticed some of Prime’s new attitude as well.

The Seeker moaned softly and rolled onto his back, sighing. The small of his back ached. It had been a very long time since the warlord deigned to use his valve, preferring to force himself into the Seeker’s too-tight secondary channel. 

There had been a time when their interfaces were meant to be mutual pleasure, not pain and hatred.

 

The next battle found Optimus against Megatron again. The silver tyrant was taking up his concentration- taking it away from where it needed to be. On his men. When Bumblebee cried out, Optimus whirled and shot Thundercracker off of the scout. In response, Megatron punched Optimus in the center of the back, knocking him down.

Starscream’s null ray fired over Optimus Prime and nailed Megatron in the faceplates. When the silver Decepticon had pushed Optimus down, he must have thrown off the Seeker’s aim. This gave Optimus time to recover, especially since the two leaders decided to start a screaming match as Megatron questioned Starscream’s usefulness, intelligence, aim, and strategic thinking. Starscream, in turn, questioned Megatron’s judgment, tactics, and the state of his spike, which Optimus did not need to think about.

Especially since the screaming match gave him a chance to aim a perfect kick into Megatron’s crotchplate.

While Megatron was groaning, he bellowed for a retreat and the Decepticons made for the sky. 

But Optimus couldn’t feel victorious. When he turned around, Pipes was lying in a pool of his own energon. And he had failed. Again.

 

Starscream got off lightly. Megatron was too busy clutching his privates to make his life miserable. The Seeker went home and climbed in his soaking tub to think. It was unfortunate that humans didn’t have mercury in large quantities or he could have a far hotter bath. As it stood, water’s boiling temperature was adequate, if not completely satisfactory. 

Had the Prime gone from being reckless to suicidal overnight? Why would he turn his back on Megatron? Granted, Thundercracker had attacked Bumblebee and Optimus had turned to… to save him. 

Starscream pouted in thought and sank completely into the tub. Optimus was risking himself to save his men, far more recklessly than in the past. This wasn’t going to end well for anyone involved, least of all the Convoy.

It would be a favor to Megatron to let it continue, and Starscream was sick and tired of doing the slag-lord favors.


	2. Chapter 2

Starscream had his chance when he was on patrol with Motormaster and Wildrider. It was a punishment to be assigned to the two Stunticons and he knew it.

But, they met Optimus Prime and Ironhide on patrol at least, in a small, enclosed valley. Starscream hung back, letting the Stunticons run forwards to challenge the Autobots. Wildrider took Ironhide and, in the luckiest fluke Starscream had ever seen, backed him over a patch of loose gravel and managed to use the weapon’s specialist’s instability to bash his helm into a rockface. 

Optimus pushed himself free of Motormaster momentarily, hefted a rock, and threw it with unerring accuracy at Wildrider’s helm, smashing him into the very same rock and sending him sprawling.

He turned back half a second too late as Motormaster bellowed and raised his sword for a strike at the convoy’s open side. It was almost comical, the expression on his faceplates as he stared down at the slim, strong blade extending from his spark chamber. He dropped his own sword and tried to grip at the other blade as Starscream pulled it free. 

Optimus stared, slack-jawed, as Motormaster folded. “Why did you do that?” He questioned Starscream.

The Seeker shrugged. “I’ve never liked Motormaster. He’s loud-mouthed and has wandering servos.” He sheathed the sleek katana inside his wing. “I think the better question is, why didn’t you?”

“I had to stop Wildrider from-“ Optimus looked over his shoulder at Ironhide.

“Slag.” Starscream called him on it. “Why don’t we talk about these past dozen decacycles?”

“This isn’t your business, Starscream.”

“Why don’t I make it mine?” The Seeker hissed, getting into the Prime’s face. “Because whether you know it or not, it is my business. You have no idea what you dying would mean, do you?”

“I-“ Optimus backed away from the angry Seeker. 

“Megatron would win.” Starscream hissed in his faceplates. “Megatron would win and Cybertron would fall. And neither of us want that.” He backed off slightly. “So shape up. And if you need a distraction or someone to talk to, come find me, if you can’t trust your Autobots with your own weaknesses.”

Optimus recovered himself a little. “And how can I trust you?”

“You can’t.” Starscream’s reply was simple and clean in that. “But I can offer you my word.”

“It’s not worth much.” Optimus looked at the Seeker. What would it hurt? If Starscream didn’t lead him into a trap, he might make a good soundboard to vent to. Who would he tell? No one would believe the duplicitous Second in Command, even if he did spread what he knew. And he did know. “But I suppose it’s enough. Where will I find you?”

“Ah… can I trust you, though?” Starscream teased. 

Optimus just stared at him, attempting to stonewall the Seeker. If he didn’t have a location, Starscream’s offer was worthless.

Starscream sighed and reached into his subspace, pulling out a datapad. “I’ll want this back.” He gave it to Optimus, an address flashing across the screen, along with directions for how to get in.

Optimus accepted it, then watched as the Seeker took off, heading for the skies. He was an enemy and couldn’t be trusted. But he might offer something for the convoy to grasp, something to alleviate the guilt and awful dread that burned below his spark.

And he could hardly do worse to the Convoy than what had already been done.

 

Optimus carried Ironhide away from the two Stunticons and back to Ratchet. The medic cursed a storm as he repaired the red mech. Optimus found it soothing. Ironhide was alive, he had done his job. Assisted by Starscream or not.

The address the Seeker had given him was for an abandoned tenement in California. He looked it up on the internet to check it out. Apparently, some mysterious man had bought it and then never did anything with it except to generally clean up the outside, mirror the windows, and plant flowers in windowboxes. No one complained. Apparently the way this tenement looked had brought up the property values around it and the neighborhood’s crime rates had plummeted. 

And it was Starscream who had done that. Optimus wondered if he knew or cared that he had done something for the people of the neighborhood. If he did know, it would chorus with his offer to help the Prime however he could, and with his desperate hatred of Megatron. If not, it was simply a kind side-effect of his life there, hidden away.

Optimus lifted the datapad. It was old, from Cybertron. Heavier than the new ones made recently, and stronger. It had survived the war and the Seeker had asked to have it back. He had to go at least once to return it.

But not this evening. He settled down, and turned to Earth’s literature. There was an idea he was attempting to understand that came from one of Earth’s major religions: Confession and Penance. 

 

Starscream’s tenement had a garage in the back. The door responded almost as soon as Optimus drove up the back alley. Apparently, he was expected. He drove into the garage and the door closed behind him. Once it shut, he risked his transformation sequence.

He didn’t know what he expected, but it wasn’t what he found. Starscream had hollowed out the tenement building. There were no divisions for floors or rooms, the floor-plan was entirely open. He noticed that it appeared to be much larger on the inside than the outside, so he could only assume the Seeker had opened a subspace pocket in the tenement.

“You came.” Starscream’s voice floated down to the Prime from the topmost platform. The Seeker launched himself off of it and dove down to the floor. He turned himself upwards and gently hovered down. “I didn’t think you would.”

“What is this place?”

“One of my various inventions that Megatron has decided the Decepticons have no use for.” Starscream sighed. “I call it Home Pocket. Basically, I have opened a pocket of subspace and shaped it to act as an expansion for a building. You know that subspace has to have a shape to work its magic, correct? This tenement acted as that shape for it. Then, I take a different pocket and carry it with me. The smaller pocket responds to Home Pocket and acts as a doorway. Currently, the door pocket is on the Nemesis, where I’ve set it in my closet.”

That went over Optimus’s helm, but he could think of a thousand ways that would be useful. Megatron should have been leaping at the opportunity to have it. “That’s amazing.”

“Thank you.” Starscream looked up. “Hmm. I didn’t think of this.”

Optimus looked up again as well. The whole building was made up of different platforms. Each one was about three stories above the last, including the first one above them. It seemed that this bottom area had all the accoutrements of a basement or entry way. The “living room” was the first platform above them, but unless Starscream could lift the Convoy- and they both knew he couldn’t- it may as well have been the berth platform at the apex of the building, nearest the sunlight from the sky lights.

“Let’s see…” Starscream looked around. There were tools and materials all around them. The Seeker must have had to build his furniture and accoutrements. He settled on a thick, steel cable. “Half a klick.” Starscream told Optimus and flew up to the edge of the first platform. He drilled a hole in the platform and hung the cable from it. “All right. Climb up.”

Optimus sighed as he eyed the cable. He took hold of it and went up, servo over servo. Starscream had to pull him up when he reached the top. “You made it. Good job.”

It seemed that once he had Optimus in his living room, though, the Seeker had forgotten what to do. “Well, sit down then. I’ll get some energon.” 

Optimus sighed and settled in on the couch. As the tools below would suggest, it seemed that Starscream’s furniture was made from scavenged materials and shaped by the Seeker himself. The couch felt like it was made mostly of rubber and was set opposite an entertainment screen, with a set of windows looking out over the hillside away from the main city behind it. He would prefer the window view, but he was a guest, after all. Optimus sank into it, and it sprang back if he pressed on it. It was covered in some human material, bright red. The floor was covered with white tiles and Starscream’s pedes made rhythmic clicking sounds above him. As he sat in the monochromatic room, a bright, scarlet red being the only color aside from black and white, Optimus began to question why he was here. For a distraction, he supposed, and someone who couldn’t hurt him and whose opinion didn’t matter.

The Seeker landed on the platform again and set a tray of energon cubes on the small table. It was built out of twisted scraps of metal with a smooth, polished surface on top. It was almost artistic. In fact, the whole place looked like something out of a human art-deco magazine home. “Did you do all this yourself?”

“Who would have helped me?” Starscream fired back, waving the question off. “I have a lot of spare time, especially when Megatron doesn’t want to see me around after a beating.”

“I see. So you just add on to this place in your free time.”

“Why not?” Starscream shrugged. “It keeps me comfortable.”

“I suppose this attitude is why you haven’t won the war yet.” Optimus touched on the uncomfortable subject.

“The reason we haven’t won the war is Megatron’s insanity.” Starscream countered. “Besides, he doesn’t value my inventions at all. If I suggest something, you can bet it won’t go over with him.”

“So you just give up.”

“Are we here to talk about my problems or yours?”

Optimus shut up, biting down. “I’m not good at this.”

“Neither am I. Let’s just skip the talking and go straight to distraction, then.” Starscream crawled onto the Convoy’s lap and began mouthing at his neckcables.

“What the Pit!?” Optimus pushed the slender Seeker back, but not away. “Shouldn’t we talk about this?”

“I thought you weren’t good at talking about this.” Starscream smirked.

“I mean… this isn’t what I came for.”

“You came for what I offered. I offered you either a listening audial or distraction.” Starscream gave him an optic roll. “Since you don’t want my audials, I suppose a distraction is in order.”

“And your idea of distraction is interfacing?”

“What’s yours?” The Seeker purred.

Optimus’s processor blanked. Why had he come here? “This was a mistake.” He stood up and pushed Starscream off. Sliding down the cable, he left the building, driving far too quickly for a metropolitan area. When he was safely away, he turned and made for the Ark. 

When he was tucked into his berth, reading a human novel and trying to distract himself again, he realized that he still had Starscream’s datapad in his subspace. He pulled it out. When he tapped the screen, it was still flashing the address at him. Putting it back in sleep mode, he slipped it into his top drawer. 

He would have to go back, later, when he wanted to return it.


	3. Chapter 3

Starscream didn’t stop protecting Optimus in battle. The convoy didn’t want his help? Fine. Well, he would get it anyway.

It upped Megatron’s annoyance, admittedly, that Starscream was so incompetent in battle, but he was always angry at the Seeker. It didn’t matter if he was more or less annoyed.

Starscream strafed down over the battlefield, aiming at the Autobots, yes, but mostly at the area around Optimus. He couldn’t do it too much. If Megatron had the idea that Starscream was helping the Autobots, it would not end well for him. Still, Starscream’s strafe did its job. Optimus made it safely to where Scrapper and Hook were ganging up on one of the minibots. The really annoying red one, Cliffjumper.

Optimus was still acting crazy. With no thought to his own defense, he was everywhere. At least he was prioritizing those that truly needed a hand, but he was ignoring other soldiers who could help. Worst of all, none of the Autobots seemed to notice.

Starscream twitched with nervous reflex as a shot missed Prime’s helmet by an inch as he knocked Scrapper and Hook against each other and onto the ground. Cliffjumper saluted and rushed off to join in the rest of the fight and Starscream continued his strafing runs, singing Prowl’s aft with one of his cluster bombs. This prompted some immature snickering.

Prowl returned fire, but Starscream’s attention was back on Prime. He had managed to make it to Megatron and the Seeker transformed to provide support, occasionally firing his null rays at the two pugilists when it seemed like Megatron was about to get the upper hand because Optimus’s processor really wasn’t in the fight. It was across the field, where Ironhide and Brawl were wrestling, or where Bumblebee and Cliffjumper had taken shelter behind a rock and were firing on the Decepticons who came in range.

For a moment, Starscream wondered if it wouldn’t be better just to shoot Optimus, let Megatron kill him, and win the day for the Decepticons. But that would leave Megatron with no further use for the Seeker except as a toy, an unacceptable circumstance.

Starscream was no one’s toy or tool. He would not allow himself to be used again.

 

Optimus noticed Starscream’s help with some annoyance. The Seeker had to know he was going to be spotted at some point and then he would be offlined, no matter what other uses Megatron had for his second, he would not stand for Autobot sympathies. That was exactly what he needed: Another mech’s life on his conscience. Even a life as wasted as Starscream’s.

Still, between his men and the Seeker, he would choose his men. Every time.

He landed a stunning blow on Megatron’s jaw and followed it up with two kicks to the chestplate. Megatron bellowed for a retreat while Soundwave fired at Optimus to drive him back.

But it didn’t matter, the victory was meaningless and everything was frozen and empty, because Ratchet wasn’t cursing in his medbay that night. He was bent in intense concentration over the still forms of Airazor and Stolaris. The two beastformers had been battling in the sky with Dirge and his trine. With this in mind, it was hard to see what he could have done, but Optimus was certain that he should have done something. Cover fire would have spared them. Better planning, taking the heights that the fliers would be battling at into account, would have saved them somehow.

But it wasn’t to be. Airazor went offline near midnight and Stolaris followed as the sun was peeping over the horizon, and the Autobots were down two more members.

Because Optimus had failed, once more, to protect them. 

The entire base was in mourning as their remains were melted down and poured out into ingots. Optimus oversaw the melting himself. Tigatron, Airazor’s mate, was silent and inconsolable. Optimus rested his servo on his shoulder kibble, standing behind the grieving beast former, strong and stoic, as always.

After the melting, when the other mechs were still comforting Tigatron, he went to his rooms and picked up the datapad. Once again, the address flashed at him on the screen. No questions necessary, no talking. Just a distraction. Just something to remind him that if he agonized over his soldiers’ deaths, more would die. Someone who could numb the pain enough, perhaps, that he could remember how to live and to lead.


	4. Chapter 4

Starscream’s tenement was unchanged. Optimus clicked the garage door opener at the door and it rolled up. Starscream had keyed it to his frequency. 

The single cable was gone. Or rather, it had changed. Starscream had added a second cable and welded bars across the two cables into a ladder. It was much easier to manage than the single cable. 

The tenement was silent and still. The Prime wondered if Starscream wasn’t home. Then, a fluidly moving shadow dropped down in front of him and went to the lamp on the living room platform- an impractical, stained glass thing that had the same color scheme, but not the clean-lined feel of the rest of the living room. Starscream must have spent a lot of time on it. “You know, it would have been polite to knock.”

 

“The door wasn’t locked.”

“Oh, frag you. At least make some noise or announce yourself when you come in. I thought you might be Megatron-finally figuring out where I disappear to.” Starscream swept into the light and to the sofa, draping himself across it without inviting Optimus to sit. “Well, what can I do for you, Optimus?”

“You offered me a distraction the last time I came here. I’d like to take you up on it.” The convoy wished the Seeker would make it easier to say things like that. He could barely choke the words out. He had come for help, but Starscream was in no mood for it, clearly. He had a slight gleam in his optics and the way one turbine jostled told the Prime that he wasn’t pleased, either by the visitation or the Prime at the moment. Though if he had gone to the trouble to build a wire ladder, it must have meant he was expecting flightless visitors.

“After the way you treated me last time? I almost checked to see if I had any rashes or blisters giving me away for venereal diseases.” The Seeker tapped his turbine against the lamp’s stem, making the stained glass shade jostle.

Optimus winced. His unceremonious rejection coming back to bite him, then. Of course, Starscream being the prideful creature that he was, he would want an apology before he gave him anything. Perhaps he would want more than an apology. What should he apologize for exactly in any case? Pushing him away, barging in, or “forcing” him to cover the Prime on his strafing runs. “I can only hope you will accept an apology.”

“Hmm. Perhaps.” The turbine bounced a little faster. “I might be persuaded.” One of the Seeker’s legs dropped to the tiles beside the coffee table, leaving his firmly shut modesty panel on display.

It took Optimus a few moments to realize what Starscream was getting at. Of course, the request was probably multi-faceted. Knowing Starscream’s tempestuous relationship with Megatron, Optimus wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted some assurance of control in this one, even if it was just interface on a bright red couch. In addition, it would soothe his pride to have the mighty Prime on his knees servicing him. He might also really enjoy being licked out and didn’t often get a chance to be serviced orally- somehow, Optimus couldn’t imagine Megatron with his glossa on someone’s array. Perhaps all three.

He moved forwards slowly, but with intent. He had come to be distracted and was perfectly willing to give the Seeker complete control over the situation. Starscream was probably more experienced than he was, with his handful of partners. The second in command had a reputation that, even if exaggerated and massively overblown, had to boil down to a couple dozen lovers at the least, each with a very different style of interfacing. 

With that in processor, Optimus fully realized that he was probably just another notch on Starscream’s bedpost. It was a humbling realization that, no matter what others thought of him, this Seeker probably had a different view entirely. With a command, he opened his mask. Kneeling between the Seeker’s open legs, he pressed a kiss to the closed panel and began mouthing at it.

Starscream made a soft noise and let his helm fall back onto the black bolster. One servo went to Optimus’s helm and toyed with the aerials there encouragingly, in spite of the still-shut panel. Optimus assumed he was either supposed to find the manual catch or persuade Starscream to open up. Dipping his glossa into the seams, he tested the Seeker’s boundaries, placing his servos on the insides of his thighs to keep them open as charge began to crackle over his armor.

Starscream’s cables tensed slightly under his servos, but he didn’t try to make Optimus let him go. Still, the convoy didn’t push for more room, sensing that that would provoke a reaction. At that moment, his glossa found the catch on the inside of Starscream’s modesty panel and it slid smoothly away, revealing his well-lubricated and puffy valve. After a moment to admire, Optimus sealed his lips to the second pair and gently massaged them together, glossa flicking against his anterior node. He was initially surprised to find that there was a cool ring of metal pierced through it, but it made sense in a way. The Seeker’s hips jumped when he nibbled at the ring, tugging on the node. 

Starscream moaned softly. It had been a long time since he had had this, another partner dedicated to giving him pleasure. The last time a mech had put his face between the Seeker’s legs had been before the war moved off Cybertron, and it had been treated as a very brief prelude to interface. Megatron had never been a fan of giving orally. Of course, he loved receiving and there had been a point in their relationship that they had to give to receive. Not anymore, though.

So, it wasn’t really a surprise that he was this close to overload already. He began to rock his hips and strain, arching. Then, his servo landed on the velvet surface of his couch and he imagined lubricants on it. He’d have to upholster it again: The stains would never come out. With a soft moan of disappointment, he pushed Optimus’s face off. “That’s enough. I accept your apology.”

Optimus stood up from his position between the Seeker’s legs. “I don’t mind finishing you off.” He told the Seeker.

“Well, I mind if you do.” Starscream blushed. “This couch… it isn’t a practical choice and I… tend to overflow when I overload.” He looked up. “Wait for a moment, I’ll get something to cover it.”

“We could always go to the berth.” Optimus pointed out.

“What makes you think I want you in my berth?” Starscream looked down at the convoy as he grabbed a blanket from a cabinet set on the wall. “This is a distraction, nothing more, and even if it was, how are you going to get up to my berth?”

Optimus looked up. Starscream was right: There was no way a simple wire ladder would cut that distance.

He helped the Seeker cover the couch with a set of sheets and a blanket. Then, Starscream pushed him down on top of it. “You did well. Your turn.” He pressed a kiss to Optimus’s forehelm and began massaging his modesty panel with the heel of his servo.

Optimus was perfectly willing to surrender control as Starscream straddled his thighs. He allowed his panel to open and his spike extended into the slim, clever servo. The sky-blue digits folded over the shaft and the primary digit slid up beneath his head, spinning the bearings. Optimus’s hips jumped into the touch.

Starscream nibbled at his neck cables and began a pulling, squeezing rhythm. When Optimus was half-way to overload, he replaced the servo with his slick, tight valve, sliding down onto the convoy with ease and a soft moan.

“Keep still.” Starscream ordered the Prime, and he began grinding their hips slowly in various directions. Occasionally, he lifted part of the way up and sank back down. It was beautiful and overwhelming in its slow, burning way.

It was certainly one of the best distractions he had had in a long time.


	5. Chapter 5

Optimus woke up alone. Starscream must have had business to take care of. The convoy sat up slowly and blinked around at his surroundings. For a long moment, he didn’t know where he was. The red couch was unfamiliar and the monochrome living room too elegantly appointed to be the Ark’s. Then, his hip slipped into a damp patch on the sheets and he remembered. 

Starscream had left him a cube of energon on the artsy little table. The sunrise was cast on the wall opposite him and, once again, Optimus wished the couch was facing the opposite direction. After fueling, he slid down the wire cable ladder and headed out. 

The Seeker had been correct, he did feel much better now that he had had a peaceful night. His processor’s constant chattering had shut up and his joints felt less tense. Heading towards the Ark, he greeted Prowl at the entrance. “Prowl, good morning.”

“Prime, good to see you’re back. I thought you must have gone for a morning drive when I couldn’t find you.” The black and white Praxian fell in step with him.

“Why were you looking for me? I didn’t miss a meeting, did I?” He checked his chronometer. No, he was well within when he needed to be back. 

“No, of course not, Prime. I was just hoping to go over our last battle.” Prowl held up the datapad he was carrying. Seeing it reminded Optimus that he still hadn’t returned Starscream’s own. “It is important to make sure that we can identify tactical errors in the hopes of preventing them in future.”

Optimus felt the weight of the world returning to his shoulders. It had been nice to be relaxed, but there was so much to do. So many failures. Would they ever just stop wearing on him? “Of course, Prowl. Of course. Let’s go to your office then.”

“Naturally, Prime. Do you need to refuel?” Prowl offered. 

“No, thank you, Prowl. I had a cube before I left.” Optimus told his second. Purposefully leaving where he left from vague. Now, this part, this felt like old times. Back when they were police officers, Orion could get a bit wild with a few cubes of high grade in his systems and woke up in some questionable berths. Hiding those nights from Prowl, who would deliver a scathing lecture if he knew, was a challenge.

“Good to see you’re beginning to take care of yourself.” Prowl held open the door to his office. “Now we need to work on you getting to berth at a decent time.”

“There’s work to be done.” Optimus reminded Prowl. 

“No one knows that better than me, Optimus, but a full recharge cycle is important.”

Optimus nodded. “All right, all right.” It was Prowl’s job to worry about him, he knew that. For the Autobots to function smoothly, he had to be in peak condition at all times, mentally and physically. He pushed aside the burden and sat down at his desk.

By the evening, Starscream’s distraction had worn off entirely. Optimus loved his men. He took care of them and would die for them, but being around the Ark just reminded him more and more of those he had lost.

Starscream was working on building something in the floor-level workshop when Optimus arrived. He looked up, an optical enhancer over his faceplates. “I wondered if you were going to come.”

“I did.” Optimus approached the workbench. “What are you building?”

“A subspace portal. A second door pocket to this one.” Starscream showed him the four devices. “Set it in a doorway, activate it with a transmitted code, and step on through. If you’re going to hang around so much, I thought you might like an alternative to driving over.”

“That’s a good idea.” Optimus looked over them. “How do I install it?”

Starscream picked one of the devices and showed it to him. “Place it on the frame above a door. I would recommend a closet door, since it’s easy to hide the devices. You don’t need to connect it to a power source: Each one has its own pack. I’ll give you a set of spares, just in case.”

Optimus nodded. “Are they ready?”

“Yes. Just a little more work on this last one.” Starscream picked up his soldering iron again and kept working. 

Optimus looked around the workshop. Now that he was looking, he could almost identify some of the projects for what they were. There was another twisted metal table under a sheet and another project that looked like an oddly shaped, wrought iron shelf. It was curving and each shelf was about two servo lengths across. Perhaps It was meant to cleave to the wall and be layered up it. The design didn’t make a lot of sense to the convoy, but it was clear that the Seeker made art when he was bored and art rarely made sense.

“There we go.” Starscream looked up, taking the enhancer off. “One pocket dimension.” He looked over at the convoy. “Don’t touch that. That’s one of my projects.”

“What is it?”

“It’s trying to be a shelf that I can place on the wall, but I’m having trouble with the flat pieces.” Starscream gave the project an exasperatedly fond look. “I might have to melt it down and start over from scrap when I have a moment.”

“Well, it’s certainly interesting. At least to look at.” Optimus assured the Seeker. 

“Thank you.” Starscream put the enhancer on the workbench. “Don’t forget these when you go in the morning.” 

“I won’t.” Optimus promised, scaling the ladder up to the living area. Starscream had laid out a pair of cubes on the table and clean coverings on the couch. The Seeker spread himself out on the couch and touched a music player on the table nearby. One of the movements of the Empyrean Suite began playing. Somehow, Optimus had always pegged the Seeker for club music rather than classical Xernochord.

“What?” Starscream questioned, a look of annoyance crossing his faceplates as he picked up his cube. “Are you going to join me or just stand there staring?”

“I would have imagined you with different taste in music.” Optimus admitted, coming to sit beside the Seeker. 

“There’s a lot people would imagine of me that’s entirely erroneous.” Starscream sat back in the couch and shuttered his optics. Optimus took note of a dent on the Seeker’s shoulder. Perhaps it had been a hard day for him as well.

“So, what do you do all day?” Optimus questioned.

“I have to spend at least a few hours on the Nemesis. I’m still the Air Commander, so I handle all aerial training. That takes up the majority of the time I spend there.” Starscream sighed. “Soundwave takes care of the administrative duties of Second, but I take care of theoretical. I submit battle reports, make tactical recommendations, and work out prototypes for testing.” The Seeker made a face. “I NEVER give my prototypes to Megatron before they’re tested. He just takes them sometimes.” His denteas ground together. “If you heard the words ‘Unstable Prototype’ would you take it out into combat conditions?”

It felt like a rhetorical question borne of the Seeker’s venting rather than an actual inquiry.

Optimus cautiously reached out and stroked the Seeker’s wing. He wasn’t pushed away by Starscream, who brooded into his cube for a while. Perhaps he needed distraction as much as Optimus did. Now, the convoy prided himself on being a fast learner. Setting his own, empty cube down on the table, he slid off the couch and to his knees. Starscream’s optical ridges twitched and he looked down at him with suspicious ruby optics. “What are you doing?”

Optimus moved between the Seeker’s knees. “Distracting you.” He replied, leaning forwards to press a kiss to the still-closed panel. 

“Ah.” Starscream’s helm fell back against the couch. “Feel free, then.”

Optimus chuckled, the vibrations running through the red modesty panel.


	6. Chapter 6

The sounds of welding woke Optimus. He was on the couch again, helm pillowed against the cylindrical bolster. Starscream had left a cube in front of him. It was so early the sun hadn’t risen yet. Optimus cuddled back down into the couch and shuttered his optics, just listening. The Seeker’s welder had an oddly muffled sound. Perhaps he had adjusted it to make it more quiet. 

Optimus felt slightly sore from his position on the couch. Pleasant as it was- and it was pleasant- it wasn’t a berth. With a soft groan, he sat up, sliding out from between the sheets. There was a scuttling noise from beneath the couch and a cleaning drone appeared. “Oh, hello.” He stared at the small, oblong thing. It made sense that Starscream would build simple drones to take care of his chores. Looking up, Optimus wondered if there was one for each platform or if they had a way to move between the platforms. 

“Don’t talk to the drones, someone will think you’re crazy.” Starscream called up at him.

“Right.” Optimus sighed and shook his helm. Of course, Starscream would mistake politeness for insanity. The drone tugged at the sheet and Optimus stood up, letting it drag it down and bundle it up in its limbs. Then, it scuttled to the wall and climbed down the side. That answered Optimus’s question.

Starscream grunted something- presumably to the drone, hypocrite- and the welder shut off soon afterwards. Optimus was sipping his energon when he flew up to the platform. “If you turned this couch around, you would have a beautiful view of the sunrise.”

“But then I would have to turn the couch back around if I wanted to see the media screen.” Starscream pointed out. “And as rarely as I use the media screen, I use it more often than I watch the sunrise.”

“I see. So this room…?”

“It’s more decorative than functional, yes.” Starscream gave him an annoyed look. “As is most of this house. What exactly am I supposed to do with all this space?”

“Why make so much stuff to fill it if you don’t use it?” Optimus questioned.

“I like to have nice things for when I do use them. Sometimes, I like to turn on the screen and just let the programming soothe me to recharge. Sometimes, I want to make oil cakes or energon sweets. When I want to do that, I want a proper kitchen. Could I do it in my workshop? Sure! But I don’t want to.” Starscream was getting touchy. Optimus backed off the topic.

“I suppose I should head back to the Ark.”

“Don’t forget the subspace projectors. They’re on my work bench.” Starscream reminded him.

Optimus nodded. “See you tonight?”

“Only if you come.” Starscream replied, not moving.

Optimus slid down the cable ladder and noticed the welder beside the funny shaped shelf. Starscream must have been trying something new with it.

Optimus transformed into his alt-mode with a few creaking noises and barely remembered to grab the subspace projectors as he drove out. At least he wouldn’t be drawing attention to the tenement by showing up every evening. Someone would have noticed eventually. It would save driving time in any case. 

After a morning meeting, Optimus found the time to mount the projectors. As Starscream had suggested, he set them on the inside of his closet door and tested them with the frequency Starscream had given him. The pocket opened up in a frame in the workshop, where Starscream was working on what looked like a brace for one of the platforms. Perhaps an old one had a flaw and was in danger of collapsing. 

Optimus closed the portal before the Seeker could say anything. Test run successful. Now, back to work.

Prowl had made a plan to invade the Decepticon’s minor base in the Rockies and shut it down. It was a good plan, but Optimus worried over the casualty risk. Prowl estimated ten percent of the twelve soldiers he proposed to take would be injured, though the possibility of mechs dying was lower.

Optimus waffled over the decision. It was a good plan, and the minor base had been a problem for quite some time. But Prowl was very clear on one point: He couldn’t come along. The mechs he had chosen were fast and agile, and his plans depended on ambush tactics to succeed. Optimus wasn’t built for that. 

Prowl looked at his leader, blue optics knowing. “Optimus, this is a sound plan. I will bring back all the men possible. The Decepticons won’t know what hit him.”

“He’s right, boss mech.” Jazz put his pedes up on the table. “Besides, I’ll be with them. What can go wrong?”

“A great many things, Jazz.” Optimus tried to tease back. “Many of them caused by your presence.” His officers chuckled over Jazz’s mocked outrage, but he couldn’t bring himself to join in. With reluctant servos, Optimus signed his glyph to the plan, authorizing it. In a week, his men would be going into danger and he was forbidden from going with them. The decision followed him for the rest of the day and into Starscream’s home. He was earlier than normal, even with the driving time taken out of consideration.

The Seeker was working on putting in braces for a new platform on the opposite side from the living room, though not opposite enough to block the light and view from the windows. He must have run out of space to decorate everywhere else. “Hello. You’re early.”

“I had a rough day and went to berth early.” Optimus explained. “So Prowl won’t be suspicious.”

“Prowl is not my problem.” Starscream reminded the convoy and turned back to his work. “Who died?”

“No one died.” Optimus sighed and explained what had happened. “… I don’t like sending my men out without me.”

“Hmm.” Starscream bolted down the last anchor and pushed off the wall, eyeing his construction. “Well, I understand that would get you in a twist.”

Optimus glared up at him suddenly. “How did you do that?”

“Well, I took some scrap from the automobile dump over that way-“ Starscream allowed himself to be cut off.

“No, how did you get me to share potentially compromising information with you?”

“I didn’t. I just asked who died. Then you told me.” The Seeker kicked the brace and seemed satisfied when it didn’t move. “But don’t worry. I won’t compromise Prowl’s ambush. Even if I did warn Megatron, he wouldn’t do anything about it. And then, when the base went down, he would beat me to scrap for not doing more to stop the ambush.” The Seeker perched on the brace. “It’s better for me all around if I just let things take their course.”

This, Optimus mused, was the power of inertia. Starscream was so used to being held in place by his leader’s doubt and fists that he wasn’t willing to step outside of that zone for any reason. Except the occasional attempt to overthrow the silver tyrant. 

Which, Prowl and Jazz had informed him, were growing more and more infrequent and less and less serious. He was giving up entirely. Optimus didn’t know whether that was a good or bad thing in the long run, but it was sad to think that this was how the Seeker hid his need to be productive and useful: Decorating and furnishing temporary homes on the worlds where their war raged. 

And yet the Decepticons held their own, in spite of this attitude.

Starscream slid off of the brace and flew over to the living room. “Well, come on.” He called from up on the platform. “Day’s not getting any younger.”

Optimus climbed up the ladder and allowed the Seeker to distract him. He woke up about a cycle later to the sound of drilling. Starscream was still working across from him. It was early for recharge, the convoy admitted. “What is that one going to be?” He questioned the Seeker.

“A guest area, I think.” The Seeker absently added. “If you’re going to be here every day, you may as well have one.”

Optimus looked at the platform he was on. “I suppose that would be nice. You don’t have to.”

The Seeker made a chickering noise. “Of course I have to, I’ll not be called a bad host.”

“Naturally. The thought never crossed my processor.” It hadn’t, genuinely. He hadn’t thought of Starscream as his host at all.

Though, if he was awake, and he had been distracted already, it might be a good idea to sleep in his own berth. There was nothing like one’s own, after all. As it stood, though the Seeker certainly didn’t appear to be trying to keep quiet for the sake of his guest, he had to be in the way. “Well, I’ll be leaving then.” He told the Seeker. 

“I’m not going to be sitting on the couch. You’re not in the way.” Starscream drove another bolt in on the second brace. 

“No, but I am sticky and I want to sleep in a berth tonight.” Optimus stood up. The drone gripped the edge of the sheet at once and began bundling it away. It worked fast. 

“Very well, then. Good day, Optimus.” The Seeker went back to his bolts and Optimus went to the subspace pocket frame. Using his frequency, he opened the pocket up for the Ark and stepped through. 

 

Starscream watched the convoy go. Well, he had put aside his paranoia enough to allow his men out of his optical range. Whether that would translate to his self-destructive guilt was another question. 

The Seeker continued bolting in the braces. This platform was slightly larger than the others. He also planned to install a walkway around the building to the living area. It would open up where the convoy could go and what he could do in the home and brought an interesting new problem for Starscream to solve. The Seeker’s tenement had a square floorplan. In spite of this, he had arranged his platforms in a spiraling pattern up the walls and to the glass roof. He wanted to maintain that circular feel in spite of the square shape, but a walkway moving from the second guest area to the living area would hug the wall, which was square, and interrupt that pattern. A dilemma that would keep his processor busy for some time at least. 

Just like Optimus Prime himself. Starscream sighed, letting his helm fall against the wall. What was he supposed to do? This was just supposed to be a once or twice distraction, but it was clear that the Prime needed more. Was Starscream up to that? Should he be allowing this, even if he was up to it? He was not Optimus’s friend. He was the opposite, who was using the Prime against his cruel and unfeeling Master.

With that in mind, it made sense to keep the Prime close, perhaps even allow him to grow attached. If the Decepticons won, Starscream would drop him like a melting scrap. If the Autobots did, though, having the Prime in his subspace would be a very good thing indeed. Perhaps a life-saver, for him and his Seekers, if they would surrender quietly.

Though they certainly would deserve it if he allowed them all to be killed, for following Megatron down to destruction this way.

He shook himself out of his thoughts and kept working on the braces for the platform itself. Each platform was welded and annealed into a solid piece for maximum strength, then winched up to the braces with what the humans termed a “come along” which wasn’t a bad term for the small, hand worked crane. Starscream covered the bolts from bolting down the platforms to the braces with strategic furnishings.

It took him three days to finish the platform itself. Optimus made the occasional comment on the platform’s progress as the Seeker worked. He came early or late depending on the day, and spent the night more often than not. Starscream thought being away from the Ark was good for him. He seemed better after he had spent time away from it. 

Just like the Seeker himself was better off away from the Nemesis.


	7. Chapter 7

“You want me to what?” Starscream questioned Optimus. It was the day before Prowl’s mission and the convoy had an idea.

After some research had revealed more about the Roman Catholic idea of “Penance,” Optimus wanted to try it as a way to deal with the idea that he couldn’t follow his men into battle or save them from everything.

“Optimus, this is from human religion.” Starscream folded his arms, reading the passages that the convoy had highlighted as a way to help explain the idea to the Seeker. “And it says here that lashings went out of fashion ages ago.”

“It doesn’t have to be a lashing. Don’t people use crops or straps to strike their partners in a more… bondage oriented relationship?” Optimus suggested. “I mean, you said yesterday that you’ve done everything, so I thought you’d know.”

“I have done everything!” He was lying. “But this seems a little iffy. Look, read this, ‘Penance is performed to cleanse the soul of guilt and consists of both a punishment that used to include lashes with a whip or cane, prayer, or a monetary fine. A Confessor oversees this punishment for the confessed sin and ensures that the punishment is carried out, then provides comfort and absolution to the Penitent.’” The Seeker turned from the datascreen. “Why in Primus’s name would you want me to ‘comfort and absolve’ you, much less confess your sins?”

Optimus shook his helm. This wasn’t going well. He hadn’t expected to have to explain so much to the Seeker. By now, he should know better than to assume anything, but he had thought the Seeker wouldn’t argue when he asked him to take a crop or a cane and hit him with it. “It’s not about absolution, it’s about consequences, specifically that I don’t feel the ones my men do.”

“That doesn’t make sense, Optimus.” Starscream set the datapad down. “A few stinging welts on your back or shoulder won’t bring your men back or help them heal faster.”

“I know it won’t. This isn’t about them. It’s about me.”

The Seeker stared at him, not comprehending the idea. “Fine. I’ll do it. But there are going to be rules. You’ll get your caning, but you’ll get it my way.” He stated, digging in.

“Of course. Provided there’s room for negotiation.”

“I won’t bend on some things, Optimus, I’m warning you.” Starscream put a finger up. “And if you try to work on me on them, I’ll call the whole thing off.”

“Name your conditions.” The convoy agreed. 

“I have to think about them. I’ll have everything ready by tomorrow.” He turned away and crossed his arms. “I don’t want to see you right now. Go back to the Ark and let me think.”

“All right.” Optimus sneakily squeezed the Seeker from behind and kissed his helm. “Until tomorrow.”

“Sentimental Autobot.” Starscream shook him off, rolling his optics. “Get out of my house.”

The Prime left, far too cheerful for what he had just requested of Starscream. The Seeker picked up the datapad the Prime had brought to show him. It wasn’t HIS datapad that he needed to get back, it was just a single-document datapad with research on human religion in it, the sections on confession, penance, and absolution highlighted. Starscream read through the sections again, trying to find the meaning that Optimus had, longing to understand.

It made no sense. He was the last person someone should want to confess to, much less trust him to hold a mech still and give him a physical punishment. How on earth was the convoy’s processor allowing this?

Though it did make sense, in a twisted way. The Prime struggled with guilt over his perceived failures as a leader. He wanted to be punished so that he wouldn’t have to carry that weight anymore.

“Why me?” Starscream muttered to himself. “Why me, why now?”

Both questions he doubted he would get to answer. But, his processor justified, it didn’t matter because this new role Optimus was asking him to fill would cement the convoy’s attachment to him. It wasn’t a role any of his men had the qualifications for, apparently, and it would afford the slight Seeker power over the towering Convoy. That could have the potential for some mild conditioning through the pain/pleasure rules.

And if it made the convoy happy, wouldn’t it be worth it to bear his own discomfort for a bit. He wanted Optimus to feel happy around him so that he wouldn’t want to leave and wouldn’t allow his men to kill the Seeker in the event of an Autobot victory. With that in mind, he really didn’t have a choice except to take up a cane or some form of strap and give the Prime his forty lashes.

He left his designwork on the catwalk and went down to his workshop. With care, he chose a polymer stiff enough to hold its shape, but ductile enough for a strap. He was looking for a sharp tap without lasting damage. Braiding the polymers around a soft, copper core, he made the polymer braid a few inches longer than the core. It resembled a human riding crop and he could hold it both forwards and back-handed to deliver a blow. Now came the acid test. Gritting his denteas, Starscream lifted the crop front-handed over his arm and brought it down. It stung, yes, but it didn’t raise a mark or a welt, even at all of his strength. Test one, successful.

He flipped the crop around back-handed, and lifted it over his shoulder. This grip didn’t allow for a hard blow, but it still stung on his sensitive wings.

And it was still safe. It didn’t injure him. The pain faded after a few minutes, even after multiple strikes- both forwards and back handed and was a dull ache where he had hit himself. It didn’t feel freeing or pleasurable, though the spots were sensitive afterwards, which might account for some of the obsession with it. He still wouldn’t want this for himself, but if Optimus wanted to try it, he wouldn’t refuse, knowing that he wouldn’t hurt his partner this way.

With that in mind, he turned his thoughts away from the crop and back to the second platform. He wanted that done before Optimus showed up tomorrow, because by Primus, he was not leaving the convoy to sleep on a sofa after he had struck him multiple times, no harm or not.


	8. Chapter 8

Optimus read over the battle report, outwardly calm. Inside, he was screaming. Prowl’s estimations had been low. No one had died, but six out of the twelve who had gone had come back with medbay-grade injuries. The simple fact was that Megatron had decided to send Blitzwing down with a group of troops for a training exercise. There had been more Decepticons than Prowl anticipated and the Autobots were routed. Arcee’s leg had been busted up and Bumblebee nearly lost an arm. Jazz and Prowl were both scratched and burned. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker had to be carried back, knocked out. At least the rest of the team was okay.

There would be a debriefing in the morning, for now, he had a Seeker to visit. 

Starscream put the finishing touches on the staircase just as Optimus stepped through the subspace pocket, a dark cloud over his shoulders and helm. “It didn’t go well, did it?”

“Fifty percent casualty.” Optimus’s optics found the staircase to the second guest platform. “What are you building?”

“I took that shelf that wasn’t working and made it into a staircase.” Starscream explained, patting the curving handrail. It was decorative, each bar twisted into a ruffle. “Come on, try it out.”

Optimus set his pede onto the first step and slowly began climbing, testing the construction as he went. It held firm, even when he stomped one pede. “It’s very nice.” He complimented mechanically. 

“I have everything you asked for up there.” Starscream flew up to the platform and settled into a couch. The guest room was decorated in the same style as the rest of the Seeker’s home, but with a bright, sparkling blue instead of red. Starscream was sitting on the couch- which was the same style as the one across the way, staring at a table. On the table was a long, braided crop. Across from the couch was a berth that looked soft and cozy. 

Optimus blinked, impressed. “You did all this since last night?”

“I was thinking too hard to recharge, so I just worked.” Starscream explained, sighing. “Sit down, we have to talk about this.”

“You mentioned conditions.” Optimus agreed, sitting down on the couch beside him. 

“I have some.” Starscream nodded. “Condition One: You will tell me the moment something becomes too much or you feel as if you’ve been injured or damaged.”

Optimus thought for a moment. “I have asked you to flog me, Starscream, pain is the object.”

“Pain, yes, but not injury.”

“Very well. This Condition is acceptable.”

“Well, good, if it wasn’t, we wouldn’t be doing this.” Starscream calmed his venting. “Condition Two: I can stop at any time if I grow uncomfortable.”

“Agreed.” Optimus accepted this one without question. As much as this was for him, Starscream had to be an active and willing participant. 

“Condition Three: We’re doing this my way. I’ll ask for your input, I’ll take your ideas into consideration, and I’ll stop at once if you tell me to, but I’m in charge.” The Seeker gave him a hard stare, daring him to argue.

Optimus nodded. “Of course.”

Starscream’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “Well, I suppose we should get this started.”

Optimus nodded. “Do you have any suggestions for where or how I should be positioned?”

“I do.” Starscream picked up the crop. “I want you between my knees, so I can hold you in place, but you can get away easily if, for some reason, your vocalizer shorts out and you can’t tell me to stop.”

Optimus settled easily between the Seeker’s spread legs. It was an odd position. Their previous encounters made him want to lean forwards and press his mouth to the panel in front of him, but Starscream’s posture was as far from sexual as it could be. The Seeker was outside of his comfort zone and focused in like a razor’s edge. 

“Should I say something?” Starscream questioned the Prime. “Chastise you for not doing your job or take you to task for letting your men be injured?”

“I’ve already done that. Just… Just get on with it. I need this.”

Starscream put the crop into the back-handed grip. Even on his knees, Optimus was massive. His own legs were spread wide to accommodate the convoy’s shoulders as the Prime hunched down into the Seeker, helm lowered to keep it out of the way.

And it reminded Starscream almost too much of his own figure, hunched down in front of Megatron, pleading for mercy, trying to limit the damage inflicted on his frail frame. It struck a discordant note in his spark and he shut his optics, striking out with the crop before he thought too long about it.

Optimus shuddered slightly at the blow, but didn’t show any other signs of pain. Encouraged by the reminder that this tool could not harm the convoy, Starscream struck again, a little harder. Still, Optimus didn’t cry out. He did lean his helm against Starscream’s thigh and closed his optics. The Seeker gently set his off-servo on his helm and stroked with his thumb, just before striking down with the crop again. This time, the convoy’s shudder was full-frame. 

He began what felt like a brutal pace, a trade-off between fast, sharp strikes, comforting strokes with the off-servo, and hard, lingering blows. Optimus absorbed them all, not crying out, and shuddering. Starscream didn’t know if it was pain or pleasure, sometimes they looked the same. At some point, the Prime started crying silently. The Seeker only noticed when he felt the coolant on the inside of his thigh. 

“That’s enough.” The joint in his wrist was aching and beginning to be sore. He set the crop down on the couch and bent down, covering Optimus with his frame and pulling him close. He didn’t quite know why he added, “You did all you could.”

Optimus gripped him about the waist and held the slender Seeker tightly. There was a thrill through his systems as he realized that, in that moment, he owned the convoy. He would do anything Starscream asked of him, accept anything Starscream did to him.

And, knowing that, he still chose to soothe his servos up and down his back, leaning and bent over the Prime, until the moment passed.


	9. Chapter 9

Optimus eventually came back to himself. He felt… he didn’t feel good, per se, but he didn’t feel bad either. The buzzing in his processor had calmed down and his spark seemed to be floating. He was calm and the world was quiet, except for the comforting sound of a Seeker’s vents.

The sound reminded Optimus that there was more than one mech in this small, soothing world, and his digits began moving, stroking the small of his back. His faceplates were pressed into the Seeker’s abdomen right above his modesty panel and Starscream was curled around over his stinging back. With a soft kiss, he began nuzzling at his stomach plates. 

Starscream grunted softly. “How on earth can you think of interface after that?”

“Maybe because my faceplates are pressed into your genitals.” Optimus joked quietly, glossa licking outwards and tracing a seam softly. “In any case, I don’t hear you complaining.”

Starscream sighed as his modesty panel slid aside. “That’s because I’m not, ground-pounder.” Somehow, when he said “ground-pounder” it had less of a “stupid” overtone than before.

Optimus buried his faceplates in Starscream’s plush, soft valve. The Seeker was a Carrier Mech, that meant his spike completely retracted normally and it only extended when he commanded it to, unlike a Sire mech, whose spike extended whenever they became sexually excited. Optimus, a pronounced sire mech, never fully retracted. Optimus was uncertain whether Starscream’s spike and valve were equally sensitive, but his own valve was small, neatly tucked beneath his spike, and not half as sensitive as his spike.

In short, he completely understood why Starscream liked being given cunnilingus.

“Ah!” The Seeker moaned softly. “That’s perfect… a little more, please… harder!”

Optimus pressed his glossa to the ring of sensors just inside of Starscream’s valve, then pulled back to nibble at his anterior node and catch the silver ring between his denteas. Humming into him, he sent the vibrations into the sensitive ring.

Starscream sank backwards into the couch and pressed his hips to Optimus’s faceplates. “Oh…”

Optimus tugged outwards on the ring, reading the Seeker’s frame, and kicked the humming up a notch, tumbling Starscream over the edge.

“Ah!” The Seeker gripped the back of his helm as he seized in ecstasy. “Ah! Optimus…” He bit down on the rest of what he might have said and rode his overload out.

Optimus stopped tugging on the ring and gave the Seeker a gentle nuzzle. Standing, he fitted his servos beneath him and lifted him into the air. Starscream’s legs easily wrapped about his hips and the Seeker’s arms went to his neckcables, molding himself onto the convoy. “One more round?”

Starscream looked up at him with fogged and vacant optics. “Hmm?”

Optimus chuckled, looking down at the cute expression. It was a fine shame that he wasn’t an Autobot and none of this was real- there would be no love between them. When he wasn’t speaking, in the aftershocks of overload, he was adorable. Of course, then he would recover and untangle himself. Without ceremony, he would withdraw to his sky-high berth and leave Optimus where he lay.

It was all right. It reminded Optimus that there really was no relationship. Starscream needed him alive and focused to keep Megatron distracted. Optimus needed Starscream because he could ask the Seeker for things he couldn’t from his Autobots.

He needed Starscream because, deep in his spark, he knew he couldn’t save all of his men all the time and at the same time he needed something to exorcise the guilt that plagued him.

Starscream purred when Optimus laid him on the blue berth on his back. It was a one and a half- so large enough for two mechs to lie on their sides together, or on top of each other. Starscream’s wingspan was barely contained. 

Optimus pinned their hips together, grinding down onto the small Seeker. Starscream hummed encouragingly and spread his legs. They moved together, fitting as if they had been made for each other. Both focused solely on the other.


	10. Chapter 10

Optimus woke alone in the new berth. There was a cube beside him on the bedside table and the sun was rising. Above him, Starscream was sitting on a perch in front of the windows. Optimus almost chuckled. So, he did watch the sunrise sometimes. Adjusting his position, he moaned softly when his sore back stretched.

Starscream looked down and dropped off of his perch. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” Optimus rolled his shoulders and stretched his arms over his helm. 

“Good.” Starscream tapped the energon cube. “Drink this: it will help your self-repair.”

“I know what I need to recover, Starscream.” Optimus shot him a look.

“I wonder.” Starscream sighed. “Well, I hope we won’t be making a habit of last night. Interesting as it was, it isn’t too my tastes.”

“I would hope we can discuss a second session if and when it becomes necessary.” Optimus gave the Seeker a look. “It did help.”

“Well, if it helped.” Starscream shrugged. “But no more than once a week. Anymore is ridiculous.”

“If that’s all you’re comfortable with, it will be enough.” Optimus plucked him out of the air and pulled the Seeker to his frame, engine revving.

Starscream purred. “Ooo… Someone’s frisky!”

Optimus nuzzled his way down the Seeker’s neck. “Aren’t you always taking me to task for not taking initiative?”

“Hmm… I’m not complaining, Prime.” The Seeker angled his helm and licked his aerial. “I have some time.”

Optimus nibbled one of Starscream’s neckcables and pushed him down onto the couch. Starscream purred his engines and stretched his servos above his helm for Optimus to grip. The Seeker didn’t mind allowing control out of his own servos, but he had to surrender it willingly and be able to take it back at a moment.

Optimus took the wrists gently and revved his engine, grinding their panels together with a slight screech of metal. Starscream withdrew his and bucked his hips up into Optimus’s. It didn’t take long for him to respond to the Seeker’s advances and they melded together, moving in sync.

After they overloaded, Optimus climbed off of Starscream. “I need to wash before my first meeting.” He kissed Starscream’s forehelm. “I’ll see you tonight?”

“Not tonight. I have to be on base this evening.” Starscream sighed contentedly. “But if you’re still awake when I get back… maybe.”

“I’ll be waiting.” Optimus traipsed down the stairs and back through his door pocket.

Starscream basked in the morning sunlight on the blue couch for a few moments, stretching occasionally and sighing as he enjoyed his afterglow. It would be nice to offer the occasional bath to the convoy, but that would necessitate him being able to climb up to the bathing platform, and that one was right below his own. No, he wasn’t ready to let Optimus past this threshold, so to speak. 

Though he still needed to find a way to fill in the corners of his home so he could build that walkway. Optics tracing the corners, following them up to the ceiling, he had an idea.

 

Prowl noticed that Optimus seemed rather cheerful that morning. “Have a good night’s sleep, Prime?”

“A very good one.” He told the Praxian. “I feel like a new mech.”

“Good, because we have a bit of a situation.” He showed Optimus a datapad. “I’d like to send a scouting mission to this location to monitor some potential Decepticon activity. We’ve been receiving odd energy readings from these coordinates.”

“Of course.” Optimus took the ‘pad, mood dimming slightly at the prospect of sending more of his men into danger so soon after the disastrous attempt to take the Decepticon’s secondary base. “And we’ll have to make a new strategy for taking the secondary base.”

“Of course.” Prowl agreed. “Though I would recommend we wait so that the alert level goes down.” Prowl reminded Optimus. “Megatron will eventually move his reinforcements to other projects.”

“Naturally.” Optimus finished the scouting request and signed his glyph. It would be a low-risk mission in all likelihood.

Prowl eventually parted company with his superior, who was still clinging to the tatters of good cheer, and went to find his mate. “Jazz?” He questioned their apparently empty quarters.

Jazz dropped his servos over Prowl’s optics and kissed his helm. “Hey, Prowler. Get my mission approved?”

“Of course.” Prowl handed him the datapad as he shook the saboteur off. “And I noticed something that should interest you.”

“Ooo… tell me.”

“Optimus is unusually cheerful this morning.” Prowl told his mate everything he could. 

Jazz nuzzled Prowl, thinking. “Usually a ‘good night’s sleep’ that leaves a mech feeling new would mean Optimus managed to get his spike wet, but it beats me who it would be with. Maybe he meant it literally.”

“Well, it’s good to see him smiling in the morning in any case.” Prowl agreed.

“Yeah. He took the failed raid way too hard.” Jazz nodded. He nipped at Prowl’s chevron. 

“No, not while I’m working.” Prowl absently pushed him away. “Give me about a cycle.”

“For you, I’ll wait for solar cycles.” Jazz revved his engines. “But you won’t be able to resist me that long.”

Prowl shot him an amused look over the reports he was reading. “Watch me, Jazz.”

 

Starscream walked down the corridors of the Nemesis. The ship’s lighting was kept dim to preserve energy and intimidate those who populated its hallways. Well, perhaps it wasn’t entirely meant to intimidate the Decepticons, but it certainly intimidated Starscream. Though that might have more to do with what always happened when he had to spend his evening on the ship.

He reached Megatron’s door at last. It was a hulking thing, much larger than he was, and it stood over Starscream as if it could see him there, as if it wanted to smash him down into something much smaller than he was. Starscream, wanting to appease this wrathful god, dropped his wings down behind his back and hunched over, huddling against the storm, which wished to push him back and commended him to save himself. His servos seemed to be made of lead as he lifted one and tapped on the door. 

There was no way the Seeker could make himself look smaller by the time Megatron opened the door. The silver tank looked down at him, but didn’t speak. The Seeker didn’t know if that was better or worse because it gave him an excuse not to speak as well and just get this over with.

Why did the rest follow this mech? Why pledge their sparks to him? Did they not see what he did? Or perhaps they were so blindly loyal they didn’t realize the magnitude.

It didn’t matter because he was on top of Starscream, his massive frame making the smaller one’s look like some shrunken doll as he had his way with him.

And Starscream took it, feeling helpless and pushing himself back to the back of his processor, letting himself be toyed with and fragged before being roughly pushed off the berth. He made his escape with the winged ankles of Mercury and rushed into the washracks to clean up before going back to his tenement. 

Optimus was in recharge when he slipped in. He was laying on the red couch in front of the media screen, apparently waiting for him, but fell into recharge before the Seeker came home.

Starscream pulled a blanket over Optimus and flew up to his own soft, plush berth. As he did, he noted the corners and a burst of realization went through him. He had an idea for how to make that platform look right at last.


	11. Chapter 11

Optimus woke to Starscream building more platforming materials. He pushed the blanket off as he stood up. “Starscream?”

“I’m down here.” The Seeker called up unnecessarily. 

Optimus slid down the cable ladder. “What are you building?”

“I’m working on a catwalk.” Starscream explained. “To connect the guest room to the entertainment room.”

“That will be convenient.” Optimus looked over the construction. “Do you need any help?”

“Can you hold a welder?”

Optimus reached over and picked up Starscream’s spare, gunning it once. “Show me where to put it.”

Starscream chuckled softly. “Do you see those two pieces over there?” He pointed to two rounded pieces leaning against a shelf. “Put a bead on each seam and put them together.”

Optimus began welding the platform beside Starscream. It felt good to be using his servos again. Mentally, he checked his chronometer. He had an hour before he had to be back on the Ark. An hour to relax here, and work on the welding project Starscream had going.

He never wanted to leave. 

After about thirty minutes, Starscream shut off his welder. “That’s all we can do before it’s lifted up onto the braces. Thanks, Optimus, it would have taken me twice-“ Optimus was hardly paying attention to what the Seeker was saying. Starscream had set the safed welder down on the workbench and then leaned up against it with one hip canted and his arms crossed. 

The convoy did the natural thing and gripped Starscream about the waist, lifting him further up on the workbench for support and kissing him.

Starscream purred into the kiss, smirking. “Insatiable, aren’t you?”

Optimus chuckled, nipping at the Seeker’s neck cables. His wings folded down slightly and the convoy used the extra space to pull him close, one servo running out along the smooth, metal plane in front of him. 

Starscream purred at the attention and opened his panel easily. His valve was still sore from Megatron’s rough handling, but not torn. In the meantime, his attention was taken up with how Optimus could almost completely encompass his small frame. If only he could fold his wings flat against his back…

The thought made him purr harder as Optimus stroked his sore valve. Lubricants began to drip onto his digits as the convoy touched the swollen lips.

Optimus pressed two digits into the Seeker’s valve, pressing a kiss to his lips. As he worked him open, he thought about how the valve felt and gave way beneath his digits. Starscream was puffy and soft as he was in the morning after having sex the night before. Ah, so that was what had kept him on the Nemesis last evening. Briefly, Optimus wondered who it was, but it didn’t really matter. After all, theirs wasn’t a relationship, really.

Though the way Starscream responded to him and writhed in his arms and on his spike, Optimus wondered if the other mech did as much for the Seeker and which Starscream preferred.

Starscream clenched down on Optimus and pressed a biting kiss to his lipplates. Of all his lovers over the years, Optimus was the best. He was so considerate, even loving… it made the Seeker want to trust him, even though he knew he couldn’t. Sighing deeply into the Prime, he began cycling his hips over the large spike stretching him.

Optimus went for his wing with his denteas. The Seeker moaned and pressed the wing further into him. Something fell off of his workbench and clattered to the floor. Not the best place for spontaneous interface, but the operative word was spontaneous.

Optimus overloaded with a soft noise pressed into Starscream’s shoulder and the Seeker followed him when the blazing hot transfluid hit his ceiling node. 

“I have to go.” Optimus murmured into his audial, still holding him close.

“I know.” Starscream whispered back, rocking slightly. His wings folded as far down as possible so Optimus could hold him even tighter.

Optimus sighed and nuzzled his audial as he pried his arms away from the small, sleek frame.

Starscream kicked his pedes in the air as Optimus made for the subspace door. “Tonight?”

“I don’t have anything on my schedule.” 

“I’ll be here.” Starscream promised, watching the Prime go.

 

Optimus had to wash and polish up quickly in order to get to his meeting on time. He was acutely aware of the few paint transfers he hadn’t had time to take care of as Prowl and Wheeljack went over a proposition to upgrade a few of the generators. Hopefully no one would notice. 

The officers took a vote on the proposition and Optimus briefed them on a new strategy for dealing with Decepticon patrols near their territory. Megatron had been having his patrols break up into two sections recently and Optimus had been puzzling over a way to counter it. He finally thought he had it figured out, but it meant increasing the number of men per patrol by two. 

Well, what was the worst that could happen? Prowl had already approved the strategy as being within the boundaries of acceptable risk and if it worked, fewer scouts would come in with scorched tires and aching joints from trying to get away from the Decepticons.

Optimus escaped to his quarters to take care of the rest of the transfers as soon as the meeting was over. Fun as their morning interface had been, it almost wasn’t worth the risk. Next time, he would have to make sure there was enough time for a complete cleaning before his first meeting.

 

Jazz sidled up to Prowl. “Did Prime seem different to you this meeting?”

“If you’re asking me whether I noticed the white paint transfers, the answer is yes.”

“So… who do you think it is?”

“I don’t think it’s our business, Jazz.”

“Aww… come on, Prowler.” Jazz continued to pester the Praxian second for ideas.


	12. Chapter 12

Starscream cut the ladder down from the entertainment platform and welded the last of the rounded catwalk into place. He stood back from his work and admired it. It had taken forever, but he had constructed a special corner shelf to fill in the gap between the round side and the corner. Now he just had to figure out what to put on it. Having an empty shelf there made it an obvious placeholder.

Luckily he had a new “Bonsai” tree that needed a home with plenty of sunlight. Starscream was charmed by the idea of a Bonsai, though the tiny trees were much too small for him to handle. He had a blooming pear tree that he had been training into a globe in a porcelain vase. The whole thing easily went onto the shelf and made it seem a little more natural. The platform below his washing one was a garden where he kept various human plants in containers and studied them. The trees he kept in ornate vases were his favorites. 

Clearing away the cabling, he polished the walkway one last time and was finished with the construction. He sprawled out on the red couch and tapped his music player. A human symphony began playing. Shuttering his optics, he just enjoyed the peace.

Optimus brought a gift with him when he came back. Grimlock and Scoop had come upon a cache of large crystals in the process of digging the Ark out. The points had been claimed by Wheeljack and Perceptor for experimentation, but the chunks of useless, white crystal below had been up for grabs. Optimus had claimed a chunk about as large as his fist for Starscream. Why the Seeker would want it, he didn’t know, but he was sure he would think of something. 

He followed the strains of music up the wrought iron stairs and around the new walkway. He admired the elegant design as he reached the red couch where the tricolor Seeker was humming along to the music and bouncing one pede in the air. 

“I brought a gift.” Optimus sat down on the couch and Starscream laid his turbined pedes in his lap. 

“Ooo… A present? For me?” The Seeker cracked his optics. “Well, then, what is it?”

“It’s a crystal.” Optimus offered the chunk. “I thought you might like it.”

Starscream took the crystal and examined it. “It’s not very high quality, but it’s perfect for carving.” He sat up and kissed Optimus’s cheekplate. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Optimus laced an arm around his waist and pulled him up onto his lap. The Seeker leaned into him and extended two claws, beginning to chip away at the quartz chunk with them. Seeing that he was occupied, Optimus took out a datapad from his subspace and began reading some human poetry.

Starscream kept up his chipping for awhile until he apparently reached a point where he couldn’t continue with just his claws. Laying the crystal aside, he dusted himself off. With a shift, he straddled Optimus’s lap and lay chassis-to-cockpit against him, humming in contentment.

Optimus tickled the small of his back and sighed gently. It was a fairly intimate position, but innocent enough to keep the mood light and soft. 

Well, it was until Starscream began moving his hips gently against Optimus’s.

Optimus ignored him for a few moments, observing as the Seeker slid his claws down his front and into his grill, teasing the mechanics below. At last, he hummed, “Something you want, Starscream?”

Starscream hissed. “You know full well what I’m asking for.” He aimed a sharp-fanged bite at the convoy’s neckcables.

“Mmm… No, I’m not sure I do.” He shot a teasing glance at the Seeker and saw the determination in his optics. This could end very, very well.

Starscream slid down his chassis, glossa making a wet trail to his codpiece and nibbling at the seams. Optimus quirked an optical ridge in surprise. Though he had often given Starscream oral attention, the Seeker had never offered it. It seemed that was about to change.

Starscream found the manual catch for his panel and toyed with it before flipping the plate open. With loving flicks of his glossa, he coaxed the Prime’s spike out began laving attention on it. It was amazing, frankly. He had a talented mouth.

Optimus began responding to the attention with brief thrusts up into the Seeker. Of course, as soon as he started that, Starscream pulled away. The wet mouth, though, was replaced soon after with an even hotter, wetter valve.

Optimus abandoned his pretense of disinterest and gripped Starscream’s hips, helping the Seeker lift up and down. 

“Finally!” Starscream hissed into his audial. Optimus could sense that he had been pleased at the challenge, though. Boredom was a real problem for the Seeker.

Optimus let Starscream set the pace, following his motions as he pressed upwards and down. In general, the Seeker’s approach to interfacing was like a controlled fall: Chaotic but ordered. His movements might seem erratic, but they were calculated and determined, bring them both to mind-blowing overloads. It seemed almost unfair for him to do all the work this way, but Optimus couldn’t bring himself to complain.

Starscream also seemed to enjoy the controlling role more. He was in charge in their berth and that meant a lot to the Seeker. Probably because he had so little control in other factors in his life, especially where Megatron was concerned.

Optimus kissed him gently as they were coming down off of their high. Starscream mumbled something about the Prime being a sap and cuddled close, not letting his spike slip out yet. Optimus chuckled at his hypocrisy and gently placed one servo on the small of his back.

And for as long as the moment lasted, he imagined that what they had was real.


	13. Chapter 13

Starscream was sitting on the blue couch when Optimus woke. He had a datapad in front of him and was scribbling on it. Doubtless some project he was having difficulty conceptualizing. The sunrise was in front of him, but true to his word, he wasn’t bothering to watch it.

Optimus hugged the pillow and watched Starscream at work. He made an interesting picture, with the sun casting its color over his white plating and gilding his red. 

Starscream finally looked up at him and their optics met. Caught staring, Optimus smiled at him and sat up. “How long have you been sitting there?”

“I often watch you while you recharge.” Starscream shrugged. “You make for something to look at that’s more entertaining than the ceiling.”

“Well, I’m glad I rate so highly in your mind.” Optimus chuckled and stood up, stepping to the Seeker’s side and bending to rest their helms together.

Starscream smirked at his calculations. “Of course. You’re on my list of things I will claim for my own when I overthrow Megatron and end the war.”

“Am I very high on it?” Optimus laughed softly, reaching down to grip Starscream’s aft and lift him into the air. The datapad bounced on the couch as the Seeker laced his digits around the Prime’s neck. 

“Hmm. How do you define ‘high?’ I mean, you’re definitely in the top twenty.” The Seeker teased him.

Optimus nibbled his neckcables. “Hmm. I suppose I’ll just have to work my way up the list.”

“I would love to give you the opportunity.” Starscream sighed and Optimus could practically sense the ‘but’ that was coming. “But I have to go. Megatron’s calling a tactics meeting, and I should have gone five klicks ago.”

“Of course.” Optimus set him on his pedes. “I suppose there’s always tonight.”

“If we’re in any shape or mood for it.” Starscream sighed, squeezing his servos. “When I see you today, please, remember to keep yourself safe.” Before Optimus could demand that he elaborate on that, the Seeker had pitched himself off of the edge of the platform and was rushing through his door back to the Nemesis.

Optimus was left to think. He jumped in sudden realization- an early tactical meeting, seeing Starscream later, keep himself safe… Megatron had ordered a raid somewhere. He burst into his own quarters and rushed through his morning routine, then ordered Red Alert to scan all frequencies and satellite images, looking for any sign of Decepticon activity.

Red Alert discovered a transmission concerning a power plant in a small, desert city. Immediately, Optimus ordered his team to roll out.

They interrupted the Decepticon’s raid before they could finish converting the energy at the plant to energon. Starscream and his Seekers strafed the ground around the plant, keeping the Autobots from approaching. Megatron and the Constructicons were outside the plant, battling the Autobots. It was an odd and ineffectual tactic that could only end in disaster, but the warlord insisted on it instead of remaining within the Seeker’s protective perimeter.

Optimus and Megatron struggled with each other while the Constructicons formed Devastator and the other Autobots focused on breaking the titanic combiner up. 

“This is madness, Megatron!” Optimus cried in his rival’s faceplates. “You can stop all of this! Just let the war end!”

“Not until I have your head on a platter.” Megatron growled, pushing him back and bringing his fusion cannon to bear on the Autobot leader. 

Optimus was frozen in time for a moment as he watched the cannon start to glow. Then, hit by a lucky shot, Starscream spiraled out of the air and plowed Megatron into the ground.

“Starscream, you idiot!” Megatron threw him off and into the wall of the power plant, twisting his wing. 

Optimus took the moment to throw a sucker punch into Megatron’s back. The warlord growled. “Retreat!”

As the Decepticons fled, a cry went up from the field. Cliffjumper had been stepped on by Devestator and his greyed form was clutched in Bumblebee’s arms as the little yellow scout grieved over his friend.

Optimus and Starscream met each other’s optics and Starscream knew what the Autobot Commander would ask of him later. He gave him the slightest nod and took to the air after his compatriots, forced to fly low by the pain in his wing.

 

Starscream was waiting for Optimus when the convoy finally came in and dragged himself up the stairs. The Seeker was sitting on the blue couch with the crop in his servos and his knees parted. Optimus went to him and fell to his knees, burying his faceplates in the Seeker’s thigh and locking his arms onto the thick limbs.

“You lost another soldier.” Starscream spoke, taking up the crop in a firm hold. 

Optimus nodded with a choked. “I’m sorry.”

“This is not a punishment.” Starscream whispered, rubbing the back of his helm softly. “This is a reminder.”

“Please…” Optimus begged. “I need… I need this.”

Starscream closed his optics for the first strike- as he always would. When Optimus showed no distress at the pain, he remembered where he was and what he was doing. He applied the crop until the Prime was a shivering, quivering mess, and he still hadn’t asked the Seeker to stop.

He never asked Starscream to stop. Never. Not when he began to be immune to the crop and not before.

Starscream stopped when his wrist felt like his servo was about to fall off. He bent over Optimus and hugged him close. “You did all you could. It’s the war.”

Optimus, optics closed, cuddled into the Seeker and nuzzled his plating. 

“No, not now.” Starscream gently pushed his face away from his abdomen, forcing him to turn his head. “I’m not in the mood.”

Optimus moved his arm around Starscream’s waist and held him close. There was a slight hiss as his arm brushed the Seeker’s twisted wing. 

Starscream sighed, adjusted his arm. “We don’t all have a medic like Ratchet, Optimus.”

“I know.” Optimus sighed, picking him up. “Stay the night with me?”

“…All right. But be careful of my wing.”

Optimus and the Seeker arranged themselves on the single berth with Starscream lying on top of the convoy. The Prime stroked the uninjured wing as they fell into recharge together.


	14. Chapter 14

Starscream was in trouble. 

He knew he was in trouble, knew he was slipping. Knew he was losing himself. There was a precipice and he was barreling right for it. His treacherous, soft spark had betrayed him one more time and he couldn’t bear the thought of it. Shaking, he pulled himself under the surface of the heated bath and wondered if he could force his vents open, let the water suffocate his stupid spark. 

But it wasn’t in his nature to commit suicide, no matter how much better it might be for him in the long run. He lifted himself out of the water and polished off, shaking with realization. His servos shook hard as he worked in his workshop, waiting for his menace to return. He ruffled and twisted iron bars, attached them to supports and steps, created a railing. 

He mounted the staircase to his kitchen area with trembling servos. He burned one of his sky blue digits with the welder and cried out, pain mirroring that in his spark. Gripping the welder, every movement with it was a stab through his servo straight to his spark.

He didn’t stop working until he had built a path for the convoy to invade his home as he had invaded his spark.

“Starscream?” Optimus called up to where he could see the flash of the Seeker’s welder. “What are you doing?”

Starscream let out a high-pitched giggle as he clutched his aching and damaged servo. The welder fell off of his berth platform and crashed to the floor so many floors below, breaking irreparably. Optimus made a soft sound of alarm and took to the staircase, rushing up it several steps at a time, not thinking about the Seeker’s motives in building it. “Starscream? What’s happened?”

The Seeker was hugging his servo to his frame, coolant in his optics when he saw Optimus. “I- I’ve been stupid.” He told the convoy, honest for once in his existence.

“Shh…” Optimus soothed him with a gentle servo, too gentle for the power the convoy embodied. Megatron would never be so gentle. “Let me see… Show me where it hurts…”

Starscream wondered how he would react if he tore open his cockpit in front of him and truly showed the Prime where it hurt, but couldn’t. Instead, he untucked his arms and showed Optimus the burned servo. 

Optimus wrapped it in gauze and taped the bandage shut. “Does it hurt badly?”

The Seeker’s lipplates trembled and somehow, Optimus knew he wasn’t referring to the burned servo when he nodded and leaned on the Convoy’s windshield.

Neither recharged that night, curled up in Starscream’s plush, scarlet berth. He did love red, Optimus reflected as he stroked the Seeker’s wings. There were no electric lights on, but a small, bright candle glowed in a polished sphere of quartz crystal on the Seeker’s bedside table. With a pulse of his spark, he recognized it as the chunk of quartz he had given the Seeker almost three months ago. He had nearly forgotten the small hunk of rock, but it was clear Starscream hadn’t.

Was this a sign that there could be more to them than Optimus believed? That there could be something real in their pseudo relationship?

He looked down at the Seeker, pretending to recharge, and wondered.

In the morning, Starscream pushed Optimus out of berth. “You have an early meeting. Get going.”

Optimus sighed and bent over the Seeker, pressing a kiss to his neckcables. “Don’t forget the training excercises later.”

“As if I could.” Starscream pulled the cover over him. “Get out of my house, Autobot sap.”

The Seeker’s sour voice and attitude were like a breath of fresh air. Starscream was in this because he needed Optimus alive to keep Megatron busy. He would do whatever was necessary to keep him happy. None of this was real.

He was almost happy to remember that.

As Optimus disappeared from the berth platform, Starscream sat up in his berth, listening as the convoy’s footsteps rang on the iron stairs, clutching the soft sheets to his cockpit as he hardly dared to in-vent. His spark had torn itself out of his chamber and was flying with the Prime as he left the Seeker’s home. 

He caressed the bandage on his servo where Optimus had comforted him the previous night, and stood up, walking to the edge of the platform. He had a moment to appreciate the convoy undisturbed as he strode around the catwalk and down the final set of stairs. Optimus was beautiful. All bulky, squared-off grace and power, with an unapologetic air. Combine that with his determination to do the right thing and his gentleness and he was a strong, heady wine. Starscream had to shut his optics to keep himself from weeping.

He was lost, wasn’t he? His life was forfeit, bound up in the convoy leaving him. His soft sob broke the silence as coolant poured from his scarlet-gold optics. A smile split his faceplates, knowing he loved the one and hoping he was loved in return.


	15. Chapter 15

It was a hard week for both of them. There was barely time for them to interface in the evenings and both were wound tight by the time their appointed time came. The Seeker waited for Optimus with the crop, and led him up to his larger, softer berth, wanting the convoy there. But even as he began the blows that gave Optimus such relief, Starscream knew it wouldn’t be enough. Not tonight.

Starscream delivered three more blows with the crop and stopped. Optimus was still stiff and shaking under his servos. Already, this session had been longer than double their previous one and he wasn’t relaxing. They were chasing a relief that just wasn’t going to come. “This isn’t working.” He threw the crop aside, servos lacing behind the Prime’s helm. 

“I need something, Starscream!” Optimus looked up with the pain-filled expression that cut Starscream to the quick. “Please…”

“Shh. I’ll think of something. Stay here.” Starscream left him beside the scarlet berth and dropped off of the platform, aiming for the workshop. 

Something stiffer than a crop, more painful but still not too damaging. He bit at his lipplates as he fabricated. Less polymer, harder metals... When he stepped back from his creation, it was unmistakably a cane. His servo shook as he took it up and laid his arm across the bench for a testing blow.

The pain from the blow drove coolant to his optics and he had to whimper and bite on the cane itself as he clutched the stinging arm close to him. This one had the potential for serious damage. It also brought his favored position for Optimus into question. He couldn’t aim blows at a mech between his knees with this! If he hit his legs with it, he might hurt himself. He would have to do something else.

Optimus was waiting for him when he made it back up with the cane. There was something sick about the eager way his optics stared at the cane.

Starscream had to get that look away from his sight, couldn’t stand it. “Bend over the berth.” He gripped the cane a little too hard for his joints. 

Optimus obeyed immediately, gripping the berth and lying over it, waiting. 

Starscream hefted the cane, feeling its weight and pulled it back, lashing out, but trying to keep the stroke gentle enough to hurt but not injure. Optimus jolted, but didn’t cry out, as was normal. When Starscream opened his optics, he was horrified. There was a welt drawn across the convoy’s back. It was hard with energon and pulsing slightly. 

“No, enough, I can’t do this.” Starscream’s grip loosened around the cane. 

“Just one more?” Optimus breathed, distressed. “Please…”

Starscream shut his optics and held up the cane, letting it fall one more time before he cast the stick of metal away. He flopped down beside Optimus and curled into him, energon in his tanks disagreeing terribly with him. “I hate this…” In a rare, unguarded moment, he spoke directly what was brewing in his spark. “I hate this! Why do you want this? Why do you need this? What is wrong with you?”

Optimus held him close with one arm. “Shh… you’re over-wrought.”

Starscream shuttered his optics and cried himself to sleep.

In the morning, Optimus was gone. He had an early morning meeting and Starscream had slept late. The Seeker, still disturbed and unhappy, hugged himself, spotting a line of spilled energon on the sheets beside him. He recoiled violently and fell out of berth, landing on the cane and recoiling further. He fell, screaming, off of his platform and barely caught himself with his turbines. He bit his lipplates, shaking his helm. No, he couldn’t have that in his berth. Energon on his sheets? Canes near his berth? No, he wasn’t Megatron. He wasn’t!

He loved Optimus… All he wanted was for the Convoy to be happy. Why couldn’t he see that his men were willing to give their lives for their Cause? Why did he have to torture himself like this?

He had to show him… Had to tell him there was another way… But how? His spark tore at itself, afraid to lose Optimus, afraid to hurt him.

Optimus returned to the Seeker’s home with a torn shoulder. He had been training in the simulator on its most difficult level and not gone to see Ratchet afterwards.

“What were you thinking?” Starscream hissed at him as he treated the over-stressed cabling as best he could.

“I needed to get out of my own processor.” Optimus replied, sounding care and world worn.

“…Fine. I’ll do it. Just don’t hurt yourself like this again. When you’re healed up, we’ll resume our sessions.” He felt ill as he thought of the cane, hidden deep under his berth. He didn’t want to use that on anyone, least of all Optimus.


	16. Chapter 16

With the use of a more dangerous prop, their sessions moved back to the blue guest platform. Starscream stocked up on medical grade supplies and equipment, which he put into a trundle-style drawer beneath the smaller berth. 

When Optimus came, he was carrying something unexpected: A length of polymer rope. 

“What’s this for?” Starscream regarded the white cord with suspicion.

“I want you to tie me to the berth.” Optimus explained. “I liked the feeling of being pinioned, even if I could get away easily.” 

“…I feel like I have to re-emphasize the importance of you telling me when you’ve had enough. This cane isn’t like the crop.” He held said tool up. “This can kill you.” He was exaggerating. Definitely. Probably. Maybe. Hopefully. “The moment you’ve had enough, tell me to stop. The moment.” Starscream stared hard at him. “And, as usual, I reserve the right to stop the session whenever I see fit.”

“Of course.” Optimus agreed, then extended his wrists to the Seeker. 

Starscream sighed and formed a double-looped knot, slipping each loop over a wrist and tightening them enough to pull on them. “All right. Bend over the berth, I don’t want to hurt you.” He tied the other end of the rope to the frame of the berth and stood over the pinioned Prime. “You realize that you could be completely screwed if I decided to call Megatron right now?”

“You won’t.” Optimus stated confidently. “Besides, you used a Praxian bow. I can take this apart easily.”

“…You’re right about one thing. I won’t.” And it was the truth. Betraying Optimus had never crossed his processor. He hefted the cane, shut his optics, and set in for the long-awaited session.

After twenty blows, Optimus was a criss-cross of stinging welts and he still hadn’t called the Seeker off. Still, the tension he carried high in his shoulders had relaxed and Starscream had enough. “There.” Starscream cast the cane away and leaned over Optimus, wishing he could embrace him close, but not daring to touch the stinging wounds. “You did all you could.” He murmured to the Prime, kissing his audial and stroking his helm and faceplates. 

Optimus turned his helm and their lipplates brushed. “Thank you.”

Starscream reached for the knot and undid it. “Can you manage the stairs?”

“You didn’t go that hard.” Optimus sighed, grumbling at the worrywart Seeker.

“Then come on, let’s get you into a hot tub.” Starscream urged him up the iron staircases.

Optimus was amazed by the variety Starscream had introduced into his home. The new staircases gave his usual guest complete freedom around the house. They passed upwards through the entertainment room, the kitchen, a library, an office and studio, laboratory, a moss garden where Starscream also cultivated his “Bonsai” and up to the washing room that contained a massive marble tub and a shower stall as well as an enclosed ‘fresher, mirror, and sink. It was the image of a charming Cybertronian bathroom if it had been designed by humans.

“Lie down on your front.” Starscream insisted on helping him into the tub. Optimus crossed his arms on the rim and lay down on the cool stone while the Seeker fussed with the temperature behind him. In his typical, nitpicking fashion, he wanted everything to be perfect.

“I’m all right, Starscream.” Optimus reminded him, feeling relaxed and calm in that special way. 

“You can’t see behind yourself.” The Seeker sat side-saddle on the edge of the tub and began washing the welts with a polishing cloth. Optimus’s engine began to purr under the attention as Starscream rubbed oil over the wounds and stroked each one up and down, removing any energon and revealing a few breaks in the armor that he closed up with a small, hand-held welder. 

Optimus closed his optics and hummed softly as the Seeker worked. Eventually, Starscream stopped. “All right, you can turn around.”

Optimus rolled onto his front, accepting the burst of pain with relish and reached up to the Seeker, sitting perched on the side, barely in the steam. “Join me?”

“…If you insist.” Starscream sighed, making his simple request seem a chore. The Seeker had the infuriating habit of playing hot and cold with his every request. The most complicated and difficult problems he accepted as if they were the matter of no effort at all, but the simplest and “sappiest” desires the convoy expressed were fought at every turn.

In a way, Optimus was grateful for that. The push against every offer of affection and the rolling optics were how Starscream reminded him of the boundary in their relationship, in the need to keep himself distanced from the Decepticon traitor.

Even if his light, slender frame fit so delightfully well against his as his helm came to rest right on the convoy’s shoulder and tucked into his neckcables. The graceful legs pressed together almost modestly as the Seeker rested on his side, leaning against the side of the tub.

Optimus held him with one arm, caressed his dark, beautiful faceplates with the other servo. They lay there, together, until the heat began to go out of the water and Starscream began shifting in discomfort.


	17. Chapter 17

Prowl normally didn’t pay attention to Optimus’s back. There wasn’t usually anything to see. 

There still wasn’t much to see, but something was niggling at him. There were lines across his back that seemed odd somehow. Had Optimus been recharging on something other than a normal berth? He didn’t seem hurt and wasn’t working below full capacity, so it wasn’t really his business to remark on it, but it was still odd to see them across his leader’s back.

The pressure of curiosity began to make itself known on his tac-net as he considered the Prime, but he didn’t say anything about it. Like the white paint transfers, it wasn’t his business.

 

Starscream admired the small pot of Juliette Roses Optimus had brought him. Gifts were few and far between from the Convoy, but when they did come, they were always intriguing little nick-nacks or materials for projects. This container of ornate pink flowers was one of the former. Still, Starscream thought that he could use these in a lovely project: A container garden. 

His own gifts for the Convoy were mostly small things, more common, but brushed off with his usual scathing repertoire. It was shameless, how they flirted with insults right in front of their separate factions. 

This one, he was afraid, would be showing his spark a little too much. It had taken a long time, but he had built a miniature moss garden for Optimus with a small cherry tree in the middle of it. It was inside a porcelain pot raised on four Fu dogs and painted with gold and red dragons. He had taken cuttings from other decorative plants and planted them in crevices between the small rocks. 

It was their anniversary, or the date Starscream was choosing to see as their anniversary: It was exactly a year before that Starscream had realized he had fallen, wing over turbine, deep as the sea, in love with Optimus. The moss garden seemed like a fitting gift for such an occasion: He had spent most of four months fussing over it, choosing the best mixture of soil and sand, lining the pot with pebbles, tending the cherry tree, coaxing moss across the entirety of the pot and up the rocks he had chosen, transferring pretty plants… Optimus would love it. Or at least, he hoped he would. He certainly seemed to enjoy the Seeker’s fascination with Bonsai trees. 

As a finishing touch, a perfect addition, Starscream had built a tiny cascade from the roots of the cherry tree where it perched at the peak of a pile of rocks, all the way to the rim of the bowl where a small divot had been dug out and lined with clay. It had been a last-minute addition and clumsy, but he couldn’t regret it. The water added a sense of just-so to the little garden. 

Starscream gingerly lifted the pot and carried it down to the kitchen. He had spent most of the day preparing a lovely evening meal for them and laying the table. The moss garden was the centerpiece for the table.

When the Seeker heard Optimus’s footsteps on the workshop floor, he smiled softly to himself and reached out, tapping the music player to turn on a composition by Bach. He sat down in his chair and waited for Optimus to come up the stairs and find him.

“What’s the occasion?” Optimus took in the table with surprised optics. “Was it another restless afternoon?”

“You could say that. I wanted a nice dinner.” Starscream smiled up at him. “Come, sit down.”

“What’s this? A new Bonsai?” Optimus observed the centerpiece as he took his seat. “It’s rather elaborate.”

“It’s a Moss Garden, not a Bonsai.” Starscream corrected him, breaking the surface of his energon gel. His tanks churned. What if it was too elaborate?

“It’s very pretty.” Optimus nodded, breaking his own gel. “I like it.”

The tension went out of Starscream’s wings with an almost audible whoosh. Of course he liked it. “It took four months to make.” The Seeker admitted. 

“That’s dedication.” Optimus turned the pot gently so he could see the other side of the arrangement. “Where are you going to display it?”

“It’s for you.” Starscream kept his optics on his gel. “I thought you might take it back to the Ark with you.”

“I’d love to. It’s beautiful.” Optimus turned it back around and smiled softly. “Thank you.”

“It was nothing.” The Seeker smiled.

Dinner went well, until dessert. Over engex and treats, Optimus brought up the one subject guaranteed to have their evening end with weeping and gnashing of denteas: Upping the intensity on their weekly session.

Worse, Optimus was suggesting that they move from the cane to a whip.

“I’m looking forwards.” Optimus explained to Starscream. “The cane is losing its sting, I just want to have the alternate ready for when it stops working.”

“…You want me to use something worse than a cane? Optimus, this is beginning to sound dangerous. Very dangerous. In fact, it’s playing with plasma.” Starscream replied, desperately trying to keep his cool as he gripped the table hard. “What, exactly, did you have in mind?”

“A lash has a different strike pattern from a straight-cane.” Optimus explained. “It has a grip that extends the sensation-“

“Hang on, that’s- that’s no! No, Optimus. I will not hit you with a whip!” Starscream stood up, rage going through his wings, making them stand up straight. “By Primus, the cane is bad enough, but now you want me to move onto something that’s genuinely dangerous!”

“I trust your restraint. You’ve never pushed my boundaries, never made me feel the need to tell you to stop. I think that deserves some trust in return.” Optimus stayed in his seat, watching the Seeker.

“Trust?! How can I trust you? You’re out of your processor!” Starscream snapped.

Optimus stood up. “There is nothing wrong with me.” He stated, low and soft.

“Oh, really, that’s why you come to one of your enemies to have the slag beaten out of you every week! Because there’s NOTHING WRONG WITH YOU!” Starscream got into his faceplate to shriek the last phrase, knowing it would elicit some sort of reaction.

“THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME!” Optimus bellowed back at him, servos clamped on the edge of the Seeker’s table so hard it began to crack under the strain. 

Their optics blazed, locked on each other. By now, Megatron would have knocked the Seeker to his back and be in the process of putting him back into his place. It was a mark of who Optimus was that he didn’t, though he could and the rage burning in his sapphire optics made it clear that some part of him wanted to. With effort, he released the table. “Good night, Starscream.” He turned and left the Seeker’s home, somehow projecting anger and indignant fury without the flourish that stomping would add.

This left Starscream to stew. A low whine of rage came from his engines as he became very aware of the need to DESTROY SOMETHING RIGHT NOW.

His optics fixed on the Moss Garden and it was so easy, a swipe of the servo, a sudden movement that sent it tumbling into the air, clear off of the platform’s edge.

Instantly, rage turned to regret and Starscream plunged after it. His work of art, his baby. It wasn’t worth it. He wrapped himself around the container as they landed with a denting thud and a moan as Starscream untangled himself from the pile of scrap. 

The Moss Garden was disturbed, patches of the verdant green had peeled and the plants were disheveled. The carefully trained cherry tree would need to be trimmed of its broken branches. In all, it seemed to speak to Starscream as he held it close to him, precious and priceless: Why do you hurt me? I didn’t do anything to you.

“I’m sorry.” The Seeker whispered to the plants, carrying them back up to his nursery and babying over them, putting the garden to rights as best he could. One of the Fu dogs had broken as well, there was no way to repair it. The Seeker turned the garden slightly into a corner to hide it. Still, for all his effort, the garden had lost that just-so it had had at the beginning of the evening.

Starscream took the Moss Garden to his bath with him and stared at it as he soaked. He and Optimus had had fights before, but none that left him so drained, so cold. He had certainly never been about to destroy something precious after one of their spats before, most of the time they even ended up recharging in the same berth together.

“…Am I being unreasonable?” Starscream asked the cherry tree. “Would it really be so bad to use a whip? He says he needs this, needs the pain, and I… I just want him to be happy. If this helps him, should I stand in his way?”

The cherry tree moved slightly in the pocket’s airflow.

“You’re right…” The Seeker sighed, leaning on the tub’s side. “I’m talking to a tree: I shouldn’t expect answers from you.” He considered for a long moment. “I’m terrified, that one day he’ll push too far. That if I just stop giving him what he needs, he’ll find it on the battlefield. Here, I can make sure he gets help if he needs it. I can control the situation, keep him safe and alive. But I’m petrified… Petrified that one day he’ll ask me for too much. That I’ll be the one who struck down Optimus Prime. And it freezes my energon to think that maybe… maybe that’s what he really wants from me. An end.”

His wings rattled and shivered as he voiced the thought and his denteas chattered.

“No!” He denied the very idea, plunging his suddenly freezing wings into the hot water. “It’s Optimus Prime: He doesn’t have a manipulative strut in his frame. He’d tell me to stop, I know it. I’ve just… stopped before he wanted me to before. I’m helping him to survive, not to… to die. That’s just not who he is.” The Seeker asserted with a kind of defiance that came out as hard and fast belief.

He took up the Moss Garden and carried it up to berth with him, leaving it on his bedside table, and recharged soundly. 

When Optimus next opened his closet, there was a long whip with a braided tail and a sturdy handle hanging in it. 


	18. Chapter 18

“I’m sorry about the Moss Garden.” Optimus told Starscream, lying on his front in the Seeker’s berth. “What happened?”

“I wasn’t handling it like I should have. It fell.” Starscream explained vaguely, dabbing cleaner and covering the open wounds the whip left with bandages. With the whip, they were back down to only a few strikes per session before that tension Optimus carried lifted. The convoy had even asked Starscream to stop after the first strike, though it was for a pause while he got used to the new feeling. Then, they had continued at his urging.

“It will grow back, won’t it?” 

“The moss and plants, yes, but the cascade is broken.” Starscream shook his helm. “I’d have to uproot the whole thing to fix it. I’ll just train the moss over it, add some more pebbles… soon it will look like it was never hurt at all.” All except for the broken Fu dog. That couldn’t be fixed with all the tender care in the world. “I’ll make you another.”

“This one is beautiful.” Optimus reached out and stroked the slender tree. “I like it.”

“It’s not perfect.” The Seeker sighed. “I wanted to give you something perfect.”

Optimus frowned into the pillows. Of late, the Seeker had been given to saying odd little things like that. Things that made him wonder about where they stood. Of course, afterwards, he would say something with his usual, abrasive nature and all would be well again, but these new phrases made Optimus feel strange. 

“Nevermind.” Optimus brushed it off as Starscream rubbed his servos off with a muttered “done.” He turned over, wincing slightly, and pulled the Air Commander close. Starscream turned his faceplates coyly away, hiding his expression. 

The convoy nuzzled his neckcables and licked a stripe to his audial. “What’s gotten into you lately, Starscream? Something’s changed.”

The Seeker closed his optics, snuggling down into Optimus. “I don’t know. I haven’t noticed anything. What’s changed?”

“You have a better attitude.” Optimus stroked his helm, slowly convincing him to turn his helm close for a kiss. “And you seem happier.”

“Perhaps I am happier.” Starscream evaded, one turbine tracing Optimus’s calf.

“Has Megatron been struck with some lethal disease?” Optimus asked, teasing. 

“No, unfortunately.” The seeker sighed, cuddling close as his servos wandered. 

“Has Soundwave done something to make himself look silly?”

“Soundwave? Of course not.” Starscream scoffed. “Though those twins are causing more trouble than they’re worth.”

“Well then, what’s happened to make you so happy?” Optimus squeezed him gently. 

“Isn’t it enough that I am happy?” Starscream tickled the Prime’s grill. “Why do you have to analyze?”

“Perhaps you’re right.” Optimus pulled him in for a kiss. “I’m glad you’re happy. You deserve to be happy.”

Of course, in Starscream’s life, a good feeling never lasted. 

 

His evenings with Megatron were rare, once a month, but they hung like a shadow over him sometimes. This was one of those times.

“Ugh, this is unbearable.” The Seeker thought to himself as Megatron thrust into him. “If it were Optimus, he’d be at a completely different angle. A big spike isn’t everything,”

The tyrant snarled something degrading as he overloaded into the Seeker’s tender valve. When he pulled out, he gripped Starscream’s waist and prevented his escape. “I see you, you know.” He growled to the Seeker.

“Oh, do you?” Starscream sighed, not in the mood for this. 

“You’ve developed a run of rather bad luck where a certain Autobot is concerned.”

Starscream felt a prickle of fear. “What are you talking about?”

“I think someone has a little bit of a crush on the Autobot Commander.” Megatron hissed into his audial, one servo coming up to squeeze the Air Commander’s neckcables. “As if he would ever look at someone like you.”

Starscream choked slightly. “You want him for… yourself, then?” He hissed between his denteas. 

“Don’t be fresh. He wouldn’t have you on a silver platter and I wouldn’t have him.” Megatron threw him down onto the berth. “This is all you are: A whore. He wouldn’t deign to look at you.”

Starscream snarled into the pillow, shaking with what Megatron thought were sobs but was really silent laughter. The joke was on Megatron. Optimus may not have wanted him on a silver platter, but he came to Starscream when he went to know one else and what more was love?


	19. Chapter 19

Starscream hated seeing Megatron. He felt as if someone had been hammering on his aft. The mech knew nothing of Seekers. Brutish tank. Normally, the tyrant left him able to walk at least, but today seemed like an in-berth day anyway.

“Are you sick?” Optimus questioned in concern when he returned from his meeting and found Starscream still in berth. “You haven’t moved at all.”

“I’m sore.” Starscream sighed by way of explanation. He didn’t want to tell his love about how Megatron treated him. 

“Well, let me give you a rub then.” Optimus offered.

“Not that kind of sore, unfortunately.” Starscream sighed. “But thank you, Optimus.”

“…Do you want some energon?”

Starscream licked his lipplates. “I would love some. Thank you.”

Optimus brought up a pair of cubes and helped Starscream sit up. “Starscream, what happened?”

“…I had a rough evening, that’s all.”

“Please, don’t lie to me. You know I can see through it.”

Starscream looked away. “I was with Megatron last night.”

“What?” Optimus couldn’t really count himself as surprised. He knew there was someone else, had always known there would be really. 

“He… he has the right to order any of the Decepticons into his berth. I’m his favorite. For whatever reason.” Now that was unexpected, and it shed a lot of light into why their relationship might have turned so sour.

“… Let me see, Starscream.” For some reason, Optimus felt compelled to see the wound, see this last proof of Megatron’s madness.

“I don’t want you to see. I’m fine.” The Seeker crossed his arms. “It just aches for a day or two.”

“You’ve never spent the day in berth before, Starscream. Let me see.”

Starscream sighed and Optimus heard the sound as his panels transformed away. The convoy reached out and took hold of the blanket, lifting it away from the slender body beneath.

There was energon around both of Starscream’s entrances. He must have been horribly sore.

“Oh, Starscream…” Optimus lifted him in his arms. “After all the times you’ve taken care of me, didn’t you think I’d return the favor?”

“I didn’t want you to see.” Starscream blushed and put his arms about the convoy’s neck. “I didn’t want you to know either.” He had been afraid Optimus wouldn’t believe he didn’t want this, that Megatron forced him to berth.

“You deserve better.” Optimus gently cleaned Starscream in a hot tub and did everything he could for him. “Megatron shouldn’t treat you like this.”

“Of course he shouldn’t. Perhaps that’s why he does.” Starscream sighed.

Optimus helped Starscream get back into berth and snuggled with him. The Seeker ran a servo over his lover’s shoulders, feeling the fading marks. They were almost healed. Optimus would want another session soon.


	20. Chapter 20

Optimus’s threshold for pain always amazed Starscream. The Seeker would have been whining and pleading before a whipping such as this one started, but Optimus always bore every blow with stoicism, even when energon ran in streams down his back and Starscream stopped for fear that he would go too far with the next blow. By now the convoy’s back plating was thick, reinforced with the constant scarring. 

It certainly served the convoy in battle, Starscream admitted. Glancing shots no longer tore his plating as they would others and direct strikes were minimized. Starscream seriously considered suggesting that they do something similar to his own lightly plated weak points, but discarded the idea. The only place that struck him as a real possibility were his wings and too many scars could rob him of flight instead of reinforcing them. 

Besides, for the Convoy’s seeming desire for punishment, he recoiled from the idea of hurting Starscream. When the Seeker mused something similar after one of their interfaces and before his processor started working properly, the convoy had sat up directly and blatantly refused the idea, rejected it wholesale. 

It was heartwarming to see the convoy cared so much. 

In return, Starscream began creating gifts for the convoy at an increasing rate. Remembering his love of sunrises, Starscream redesigned the entertainment suite and set the red couch on a swivel that would allow for circular movement. The red couch, larger than the blue one, was perfect for lying together on a lazy morning. 

The Seeker one-upped himself the following week with his designs for a hanging bench swing. It was a conundrum of a project that had to be suspended from the ceiling with a safety net below. Still, he admitted it was fun and relaxing to glide back and forth together, annoying as the obstructing safety net was when he wanted to fly from his berth to the workshop in one go. Optimus loved it, loved the relaxing motion that the swing made when they leaned forwards and back in concert, and Starscream learned to love it.

They had their share of scares. A convoy in a Seeker’s home was bound to have a tumble someday. It happened when Optimus stepped on a slippery patch of tile stepping out of their back. Fortunately, he caught himself on the safety net only a few levels below and, with Starscream’s aid, moved along the support cable- servo over servo- until he was safe in the moss garden and nursery. The Seeker had thrown himself into the Convoy’s arms and kissed him senseless, spark recovering from its skips.

He designed a railing to match the staircase’s. They installed it together, putting an end to all fears of falls and slips.

And Starscream was happy. Really happy. 

There was only one mar on his glowing outlook, one spot of dust. 

Optimus still demanded sessions, and he needed longer and longer sessions every time. It was an untenable solution only punctuated by the fact that Starscream still hadn’t ever heard the convoy tell him to stop.

He reached a resolution one evening as he watched Optimus recharge, resting and healing. During their next session, he would give Optimus exactly what he wanted. They would go until the convoy told him to stop. Then, they would talk and Starscream would let him know exactly how deep his feelings ran. If Optimus was confronted with that, the way both of them felt, he would have to realize what he was doing to Starscream. They could find another way, together.

It would be hard, might take a long, long time, but Starscream knew it would be worth it. If Optimus only knew, knew how much Starscream loved him, surely it would change something. They had been together so long, Starscream knew Optimus’s moods almost before he saw him most of the time now. He would hear the convoy’s first pedestep on the staircase and set down everything to go to him. When he was sad, Starscream knew how to cheer him. When he hurt, the Seeker soothed him. When he was happy, Starscream was overjoyed. When they were apart, he ached to go and find him.

He was lost. Starscream was destroyed. This new creature, born of this feeling that burdened the Seeker’s spark, was all that remained. He lived for the Convoy and had never heard him say three priceless words. He needed to hear them. Needed to know. 

A week. A trifling little week. A week, a session, a confession of his own. Then, then he would Know and they would finally, finally be able to cast aside any illusions. He could stop playing the long, frustrating game.

Soon.


	21. Chapter 21

“Ready?” Starscream asked the convoy. 

“Of course.” Optimus turned his helm to look at the Seeker. He was on his front, lying on the blue berth. His servos were tied over his helm to the headboard and his ankles pinned to the footboard. This position was another of his ideas.

“Remember, tell me immediately if you want me to stop.” Starscream warned. “I’m not stopping this time.”

“Of course I’ll tell you.” Optimus agreed. 

Starscream uncoiled the whip and closed his optics for the first strike. As usual, Optimus took it without a sound and a full-frame shudder. 

Starscream kept a careful count, mindful of the dangers. He winced when he finally broke the layers of scar-plating and breached the energon lines, but persevered. 

Starscream hadn’t worked past forty strikes with the whip before. It was mildly frightening when he reached fifty.

Occasionally Optimus would arch when he paused for too long before a strike, waiting, almost begging for the next one. Starscream began to feel sick as he paused for longer and longer, watching the arching movement with a gross anticipation. It was beginning to make him feel ill.

After they reached sixty, he began a mantra in his processor, a silent scream for Optimus to call him off, to tell him to stop. Soon, it had to be soon, right after the next strike, soon, soon, soon…

Starscream stopped on seventy-three. Enough was enough, they had to be close to the danger point. He didn’t say anything at first, watching as Optimus arched himself upwards, all but begging. Something bubbled up in his spark, some deep-set horror. It peaked when the convoy turned his helm. “What are you waiting for?”

“We’re stopping.” Starscream let the whip fall to the floor. “That was far too many strikes, there’s no way you’ll be fit to work tomorrow.”

“If I’m already going to need attention, there’s no harm in a few more.”

“Dammit, Optimus, you have to be close to offlining from pain and energon loss.” Starscream grabbed the medical kit and cut the Convoy loose.

“It’s not enough, Starscream, you said we would go until-“ The Prime partially turned to look at the Seeker.

“You never ask me to stop!” Starscream shrieked in his faceplates. “No matter how much you’ve already taken or how far we’ve pushed, you never say ‘No more.’ WHAT WILL IT TAKE TO SATISFY YOU? WHEN WILL ENOUGH BE ENOUGH? WILL IT BE ENOUGH WHEN YOU CAN’T-“ The Seeker’s optics brightened almost to white as he recoiled, realization cracking over him like a whip. He staggered back and collapsed into the blue couch, staring at Optimus with an openly sparkbroken expression.

“Starscream-“

“Shut up.” Starscream whispered and the whisper turned into a scream. “WHEN YOU CAN’T SAY NO MORE? WILL IT BE ENOUGH THEN? WILL IT BE ENOUGH WHEN YOU’RE DEAD OR DO YOU WANT ME TO BEAT YOUR CORPSE UNTIL THERE’S NOTHING LEFT?” He stood up, servos clawing at his helm and faceplates. “THAT WAS WHAT THIS WAS ALL ABOUT, WASN’T IT? THE ENDGAME THE WHOLE TIME! THAT WAS WHY YOU KEPT COMING TO ME? WHY YOU CHOSE ME TO DO THIS? BECAUSE I’M THE ENEMY? OH, COMMANDER STARSCREAM! HE’S PERFECT FOR THE JOB! HE WON’T EVEN BLINK IF HE ENDS UP BEATING HIS LOVER TO DEATH BECAUSE HE’S SUCH A SPARKLESS BITCH HE WOULD SELL OUT HIS OWN TEAM JUST TO KEEP THE ENEMY COMMANDER ALIVE!” 

Optimus was shocked and shamed into silence as his processor’s unconscious workings revealed themselves on Starscream’s glossa.

“I SHOULD KILL YOU!” The angry Seeker screamed at him, advancing three furious steps towards the berth before he collapsed beside it. The spectre of a small garden, flying through the air reflected across his optics. “Dammit, Optimus…” Starscream whispered, suddenly seeming very small and helpless, leaning against the blue berth. “I love you.”

Optimus felt dead inside, realizing the absolute truth of the words spoken.

Starscream shook with quiet sobs, burying his faceplates in the berth and Optimus didn’t dare touch him. They remained like that for a long time.

“…And it’s because I love you, that I’m doing this.” Starscream pushed himself up, coolant staining his faceplates. “Give me Prowl’s comm number.”

“Starscream-“

“The only thing I want to hear from you are digits.” The Seeker chastised him with a sad look.

“998.45.”


	22. Chapter 22

Prowl was woken rather rudely by the constant chirping on his private comm, the one he never turned off and only three mechs had its frequency. “Prowl here. What is it?”

The voice that answered was distinct and screechy. “Thank you for picking up. I need you to gather Ironhide, Ratchet, Jazz, and yourself and come to these coordinates, immediately.”

“Starscream, how did you get this frequency?” Prowl was already sitting up, gently shaking Jazz out of recharge.

“Optimus gave it to me. Come with only those three mechs, post-haste.” A coordinate set flashed on his HUD and the call disconnected, leaving Prowl growling. 

“What is it, Prowler?” Jazz rubbed recharge-heavy optics.

“Optimus is in trouble. Come on.” Prowl helped him get up and they went to get Ratchet and Ironhide. Neither were happy about being woken up, but fell out easily enough when Prowl explained everything on their way to the Ark’s entrance.

“Screamer has Prime? That don’t make sense.” Ironhide growled.

“You think Optimus is hurt and managed to convince Starscream to call us instead of Megatron?”

“Well, he did specifically ask for the four of us. Be on your guard, mechs, I don’t like this.”

 

Starscream disconnected the call and went back to cleaning Optimus off and patching him up. After bathing the convoy’s wounds, he went upstairs to wash his own servos. Glowing energon stained the white sink and he choked on a sob. 

Looking at his drawn and dirty faceplates, the Seeker wondered if it would be worth the effort to wash the rest of himself as well. Looking at the marble tub, he decided that he couldn’t bear a full bath where they used to cuddle and stepped into the rarely-used shower stall.

When he felt marginally cleaner, he stepped out and dried himself off. Thirty more minutes, then they would be here. He put a kettle on to heat some energon and picked one of his servo-made teapots from a shelf. Not the one he used to pull down to serve himself and Optimus in the evenings or the one for the mornings, but a plain, rudimentary one that was a teapot and nothing more. He added a creamer of mercury and a sugar bowl of copper crystals and selected five teacups, though he doubted the Autobots would have any. He needed a cup, though. Badly. And maybe some engex while he was at it.

 

Two hours later, the Autobot officers reached the coordinates: A tenement. The garage-style door opened easily for them and they pulled into Starscream’s workshop.

“This is eerie.” Jazz commented. “Like something out of a movie. Hello?” He called up into the echoing tenement.

“I’m on the second level.” Starscream spoke at a normal level, but the noise carried.

“Up the stairs. I’m scanning two life spots.” Ratchet commented, and they began climbing, Ironhide taking point. The weapons specialist froze when he spotted Optimus on the blue berth. 

“Ugh, Ironhide, what’s the hold up?”

Ironhide went to Optimus immediately, checking him over. The Prime had fallen into recharge after Starscream ministered to his needs. “Ratchet, get over here.”

Ratchet rushed over, equipment appearing in his servos fast as lightning. His faceplates were grim. “He’s just in recharge, not unconscious. The rest of you find Starscream. I’ll take care of Optimus.”

Prowl took point this time as Ironhide fumed. They crossed the catwalk and moved through the entertainment room, then up the second flight to the kitchen where Starscream was sitting at the kitchen table, sipping from a teacup.

“What did you do to Prime?” Ironhide bellowed, pounding the table and making the laid teacups jump with a clatter. 

Starscream turned absolutely calm optics on Ironhide. “Sit down before you wreck my house.”

Shocked by the strange attitude, Ironhide sat down in one of the chairs. Prowl and Jazz followed suit and a stare-down ensued, one Starscream won easily.

“I need someone to help me get Prime-“ Ratchet came up and stared at the set-up before him. “What is this?”

“Please, sit down, Ratchet. Optimus is in no danger.” Starscream finished his cup. “Tea?”

It was a surreal sight, Ratchet had to blink several times as he watched Starscream fill his cup again. “What happened?” He finally asked. “Who did this to Prime?”

Starscream took a sip of tea and answered: “I did.”

Ironhide almost stood up but Prowl pulled him back down. “Why?”

“Because he asked me to.” Starscream set the china cup down. “You’re not going to like this.” His lipplates were pressed into a thin line. “And there are no other witnesses to back-up my story, but please believe me when I say that what I am about to tell you is the truth, to the best of my knowledge and ability, this is the truth.”

“We’re listening.” Jazz leaned on the table. “Carry on.”

“Approximately three Earth years ago, Optimus began adopting reckless tactics in combat with Megatron and Decepticon forces. Endangering himself, he began prioritizing maximizing combat survival over the mission objectives. I realized that something was bothering him, something I now know is guilt and depression, and I offered to distract him and try to help.”

“Why?” Prowl questioned.

“Because the last thing I want is Optimus Prime dead.” Starscream evenly replied. “Megatron would defeat the rest of you with ease. I couldn’t allow that.” He took another sip from the steaming cup. “A few months into our relationship, Optimus asked me to use a crop on him as a form of ‘Penance.’ Something a human religion is very big on in spite of no such concept appearing in their foundational scripture. It seemed to help, to relieve the tension that Optimus lived under at all other times, so I agreed to do it again and again. Eventually, the crop stopped being effective.”

“So you had to use something stronger.” Ratchet breathed. “Until you were using a whip.”

Starscream nodded and folded his servos over the bottom half of his faceplates. “I know you don’t trust me, but this is the truth: I love Optimus Prime. And because of that, when I realized… When I realized that what he was really chasing during these sessions was death, I had to tell you.” The Seeker looked at them. “You’re his friends and subordinates: Please, help him.”

Ratchet nodded. “I’ll do a psych evaluation as soon as he wakes up. Come on, Prowl, Jazz. I need you to help me get him down the stairs and into my alt-mode.” The three disappeared back down to the first floor while Ironhide stared at Starscream.

“…It is true, isn’t it?” The red weapons specialist muttered. “That you love him.”

“Yes. It is.” Starscream hugged himself. “Or you wouldn’t be here.”

Ironhide stood up. His duty was to Commander and men and duty compelled him, but he laid a servo on one trembling wing. “You should come too.”

“That’s very kind of you.” Starscream replied. “But I don’t think I’m good for him. Go now. I just want to be alone.”

Ironhide nodded. “You ever need a place, you’d be welcome on the Ark.”

“Thank you, but no. Go on.”

Ironhide took to the stairs and looked back only once. Starscream was staring into his tea cup as if it could tell him what he needed to hear. “It’s not your fault.”

The Seeker didn’t reply. Ironhide turned back around and went to help Ratchet and the rest.

 

Starscream absorbed the weapon’s specialist’s parting words and shook his helm softly. Perhaps it wasn’t his fault, but he had been the one here, for three years, and he should have seen. In a perfect world, he would have seen.

His audials itched again, but he didn’t bother to scratch. It was Soundwave’s bug, transmitting the contents of his last call to the spy-bot. One of the reasons he didn’t usually use his internal comm was the TIC’s miraculous knowledge of what he said over it. He had scrambled his call to Prowl, but it was only a matter of time before Soundwave knew everything and then Megatron would know.

He heard the tyrant land outside his tenement a few hours after the Autobots had left. Pouring himself another cup of tea, he added a dollop of mercury and two spoonfuls of copper, stirring until it was well mixed.

When he looked up, the Decepticon Leader was standing over him, a mountain of steel alloy with optics that burned rage. His fusion cannon was pointed at the delicate Seeker’s faceplates.

Starscream stared back. “You were right.”


End file.
